


The Assassin and the Thief

by PlanetClare



Series: The Assassin and the Thief [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Gambit (Comic), James "Bucky" Barnes Fandom, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics), X-Men, X-Men (Comicverse), remy lebeau - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Assassin - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Has Cats, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Buddy Story, Cajun, Comic Book Violence, Commonality, Confessions, Crimson Voodoo, Cryosleep, Cryostasis, Cybernetics, Espionage, Fais Do-Do, Gen, Harley-Davidson, Hopeless Romantic, Humor, Intrigue, Kinetic Energy, Lost Love, Louisiana, Man Out of Time, Nanobots, New Orleans, Red Room, Redemption, Regrets, Revenge, Secret Mission, Spies & Secret Agents, Sébastien the Cat - Freeform, Thief, Thieves Guild, True Confessions, Trust Issues, Unrequited Love, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Zydeco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlanetClare/pseuds/PlanetClare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James “Bucky” Barnes (codename: Winter Soldier) has traveled to New Orleans to retrieve a cache of nanobots which was stolen from Hank Pym’s laboratory to be used to save the life of the Antiquary – a sorcerer and exiled member of the Thieves Guild. To assist him is the X-Men’s Remy LeBeau (codename: Gambit), who was kidnapped as an infant and given to the Antiquary to prevent the prophesy that the mutant child would one day unite Louisiana’s feuding Thieves and Assassins Guilds. As the world’s deadliest assassin, Bucky must call on all of his skills to get Gambit into the Antiquary’s compound so that he can steal the nanobots before they’re used.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rendez-vous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes to Antoine’s Bar and Grill to meet with Remy and begin their mission.

After checking into a small bed and breakfast on St. Peter’s Street just off of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Bucky Barnes walked over to Antoine’s Bar and Grill to rendezvous with Remy LeBeau to discuss their mission. It was afternoon, and there was a lull between the lunch and dinner crowds on the most famous street in Louisiana.

Walking into Antoine’s, Bucky looked relaxed in jeans, a black t-shirt and black leather jacket. He sat at the bar and his eyes began scanning the room looking for Remy. The file that SHIELD had on the mutant said that he was often unreliable, so Bucky decided that if Remy did not show up, he would do the mission alone. Admittedly, he would have to play some parts of the plan by ear, but he did plenty of that during his time in the Army.                                

Not seeing him, Bucky decided to order a drink and give him a few more minutes. “What can I get for you, sir?” asked the stocky bartender with a pencil thin mustache.

“Whiskey, please,” said Bucky as he made eye contact and then continued to look around the place. On the wall behind the bar was a gator’s head wearing a huge pair of sunglasses. The wall paper was beige with a black fleur de lis pattern and the bar itself was dark wood. Both the bar and dining areas were dimly lit but not so dark that he could not see the faces of the other patrons.

The bartender placed Bucky’s shot of whiskey in front of him. Swallowing it in one gulp, he slapped down a bill and continued sizing up his surroundings. Noticing a darkened hallway nearby, he focused his attention on it. It looked innocent enough – perhaps the way to the restrooms. However, after a few minutes he noticed that a few men had gone down the hallway but did not come back. He decided to see where it led.

Standing, Bucky walked slowly toward the hallway and saw that at the far end, a tall, overweight bald man stood guarding a door. As Bucky approached him, two other men came through the door. “That guy took all my money!” one of them complained. “Come on! I’ll buy you a drink,” consoled the other.

When Bucky reached the door, the bald man asked, “What’s the secret password, my friend?”

Bucky looked at him and said, “Just open the door.” 

“No password? Then, I suggest you turn around, mon frère,” the man replied.

Bucky stared at him and within seconds, the man’s blood ran cold. The threatening glare of the world’s most feared assassin bore a hole straight through him, and he knew the tall, muscular stranger was not to be trifled with.

“G-go ahead, s-sir,” he nervously stammered. Opening the door, he stepped to the side to allow Bucky to enter. 

Once inside, he looked around the dim room and saw a few tables where poker was being played. He saw no one of significance until he spied a tall, gaunt young man with shaggy auburn hair sitting on a stool in the corner. The young man was wearing jeans, biker boots, a brown jacket, and dark sunglasses.

Bucky stared at the young man for a moment and then turned to go back to the bar area. However, before he could do so, he was invited to sit for a game of poker.

“Hey, man! How about you sit for a round? You look lucky to me!” a drunken man next to him said. He really did not think that Bucky was the least bit lucky. In fact, he thought he looked like an easy mark.

“I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth,” Bucky replied flatly.

“Well, why don’t you sit down and we’ll find out?” he suggested.

Bucky decided to oblige the man, so he sat and waited for the cards to be dealt. He won the first two rounds and as the cards were being dealt for the third, he noticed that the young man in the corner was now leaning forward taking an interest in his game. He also noticed that the young man was doing a finger roll with a 50 cent piece.

After winning the third round, Bucky gathered his winnings. He stood to leave the table, but the drunken man became annoyed.

“Hey, man! Where you think you’re going?” the man slurred.

“To handle my business,” Bucky snapped.

“No, you got to give me a chance to recoup my losses!” insisted the man.

Bucky said, “Perhaps another time,” and tried to leave.

The man then grabbed his right arm and reiterated that he wanted Bucky to stay. He was agitated and becoming unruly.

Bucky looked down at the man’s hand and then stared into his eyes. “I said perhaps another time.”

All the color drained from the man’s face for what he saw in Bucky’s eyes was death. He retracted his hand and quickly sobered up. Bucky turned, walked through the door, and returned to Antoine’s bar area. The young man on the stool followed him, and they sat at a small table near the bar.

“I see you’re making friends already, Barnes,” Remy said regarding Bucky’s encounter with the drunken poker player. His auburn hair was short in the back but long in the front obscuring half of his face.

“Some people won’t take 'no' for an answer,” replied Bucky a bit annoyed that Remy kept him waiting earlier.

A petite, brunette Cajun waitress approached to take their drink order.

“Well, hey there, Remy! How long you been back in town?” the waitress asked sidling up to their table.

“Oh, I’ve been back a few days now, Claudette,” Remy said with a thick Cajun accent. He had been teaching at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning but was now home for the mission with Bucky.

“You took your time coming in here. Now, you know dat ain’t right,” she scolded. “Who’s your friend?”

“This here is James. James, meet Claudette. James is a good man, so you treat him like you would treat me,” he instructed the waitress.

“Welcome to Antoine’s, James! Any friend of Remy’s is a friend of mine,” she said between smacks of her gum.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Bucky politely responded. He immediately found her gum smacking to be most unattractive, but he thought she otherwise had a nice disposition.

“Sugar, bring us two Abita beers, will you dear?” charmed Remy.

“Coming right up, boys,” she cooed as she turned and walked toward the bar. Remy liked the sway of her hips, so he watched them while he bit his bottom lip.

Claudette glanced over her shoulder for another quick look at the handsome man with the neck-length dark hair and sad blue eyes. “He’s a handsome devil,” she thought. “Dat’s for sure.”

Turning his attention to Bucky, Remy said, “So, I see you find your way around pretty good, yeah. You been to New Orleans before?”

“Once...years ago with Nat” Bucky said remembering a Mardi Gras visit with his lady love, Natasha Romanov – the Black Widow.

“Dat redhead is still leading you around by the nose, no?” Remy observed studying the look on Bucky’s face.

“You don’t know me, so you don’t have the right to say that,” snapped Bucky. “Besides, the way I hear it, you’ve got a little spitfire that’s still in your blood as well,” he said referring to Remy’s on again/off again girlfriend Rogue.

“Ouch! Okay, I had dat coming, mon ami,” Remy admitted.

Claudette returned with the beers and put them on the table in front of the two men. “If you need anything else, you let me know,” she said to Bucky as she leered at the assassin.

“Why thank you, darlin’. We appreciate dat,” said Remy flatly as he watched her eyes scan every inch of his companion. Remy was used to receiving all the attention from ladies, so he became a little jealous of Bucky. 

“Chérie, ain’t dat your phone ringing?” he said to get rid of her.

“I don’t hear anything,” she replied not taking her eyes off Bucky.

“I’m sure it is. Why don’t you go answer it?" he insisted.

Finally getting the message, the waitress glared at the young mutant and then walked toward the bar.

Picking up where their conversation had left off, Bucky said, “While we’re sharing home truths, keep in mind that the first rule of staying low-key is to not draw attention to yourself.”

“What you mean, ol’ man?” Remy asked making no attempt to brush his nose-length auburn bangs from his face.

“I mean that finger roll. I made you as soon as I walked through the door, but you drew attention to yourself with the coin. Oh, and don’t call me ‘old man,’” said Bucky slightly annoyed.

“Fair enough,” Remy replied and casually took a sip of his beer.

“So, are you clear on our objective?” queried Bucky.

“I believe so, but you can run it for me if dat make you feel better,” sniped Remy.

“Listen, we both have a job to do, so let’s be clear on our roles: I’m the muscle and you’re the thief. I need to get you into the Antiquary’s compound, so you can steal the nanobots. We turn them over to SHIELD, and they take it from there,” Bucky instructed.  

“Sounds pretty easy to me,” Remy said with a devilish grin.

“I’m glad you approve,” Bucky snapped sarcastically. “You know, I could just as easily do the job by myself but since you know the town and its people and have the right skill set, I’ll admit that partnering with you makes sense.”

“Well, thanks...I think. Let me ask you somethin’, Mr. Attitude. You got a problem with Mutants? Is that it?” the young Cajun asked sliding his sunglasses down his nose to reveal the black sclera of his eyes and their red irises.

“Not at all,” replied Bucky. He slid back the left sleeve of his jacket and clinked his beer bottle lightly on his cybernetic arm. “You got a problem with amputees?”

“Not at all,” Remy said earnestly. “Your service is appreciated, soldier, but let’s get one thing straight: I don’t work for SHIELD and don’t take orders from your agency. I’m not doin’ dis just because the Antiquary and I have history and I want to settle a score. I’m also doing dis because I don’t want those nanabots in the wrong hands.”

“Well, we can agree on that, and I don’t work for SHIELD, either. I’m a free agent,” assured Bucky. After a pause, he continued, “In the past, my buddy Steve told me that I should be kinder to others, and I guess this is one of those occasions,” he said starting to soften. Like you, I was an orphan at a young age, but at least I had my little sister Rebecca. I’m sorry that you had no one,” he confessed feeling ashamed for being mean to Remy.

Moved by Bucky’s sudden change in attitude, Remy asked, “Where’s your sister now?”

“Becca lives in a hospital for Alzheimer’s patients,” Bucky mumbled staring sadly at his beer bottle. “I pay for her care and visit her when I can, but she doesn’t remember me for more than 5 minutes. Still, I’m told she had a good life, and I’m happy that she’s safe and looked after.”

“I’m sure she would thank you if she could,” Remy said not knowing what else to say.

Walking past their table, Claudette noticed the sad look on the faces of the two long-haired men.

“Lord, who died...other than your barbers?” she joked to lighten the mood.

Bucky did not look up from his bottle, but Remy looked at her and shook his head left to right indicating that it was not a good time for levity.

She mouthed the word, “Sorry!” and kept walking.

Toughening again, Bucky said, “Look, kid, I could tell from your file that you’re used to working alone. So am I, but we need to work together and get through this as quickly as possible. Before we start, I have to admit that your lack of trustworthiness bothers me.”

“Meaning...?” Remy queried.

“Meaning that if you pinch the nanobots and then sell them to Mr. Sinister, I will hunt down your bony ass and end you. Got it?” Bucky warned.

“Oh, come on! We were just starting to be friends there,” Remy joked.

When Bucky’s stern expression did not change, he said seriously, “I only worked for Mr. Sinister because I owe him my life – just like you owe yours to Nick Fury.”

Bucky’s eyes widened but before he could respond, Remy continued.

“Yeah, Hawkeye told me dat, too. I told you dat boy’s got a big mouth.”

As Bucky thought of a way to get even with Hawkeye, Remy swore, “You have my word on it, but I don’t appreciate being called ‘untrustworthy’ by a man who stood trial for treason.”

“...and was exonerated,” Bucky quickly corrected him.

“You can trust me on this mission, ol’ man,” insisted Remy. The two sat silently for a moment. “So, how’d you do dat?” Remy asked.

“‘Dat’ what?” Bucky asked.

“Don’t make fun of my accent, Yankee. Dat thing with the cards. You count them?” pressed Remy.

“No, I don’t count cards. I have a near photographic memory. I just read people’s body language and remember which cards were played. That’s all,” Bucky replied.

“Yeah. That’s counting cards,” Remy replied.

“No, it’s not. I just remember what’s been played.”

“That’s counting cards,” insisted Remy.

“I DO NOT count cards!” Bucky protested.

“Look, I don’t care what you call it, mon ami, but when we finish this mission, there’s a place I want you to go and get in a poker game,” Remy said. “According to Hawkeye – and you know he’s got a big mouth – you never lose so after this is over, you gonna go win for me.”

“Yeah? Why would I want to do that?” questioned Bucky.

“Because the guy dat runs the place accused _me_ of counting cards and threw me out. So, _you’re_ going to go win my money back,” revealed Remy.

Squinting his eyes and looking utterly confused, Bucky asked, “Once again, why would I do that?”

“Because we’re friends!” Remy exclaimed slapping Bucky on his left shoulder. Since his cybernetic arm has no sensation, Bucky didn’t feel a thing.

“Well, _were_ you counting cards?” Bucky asked curiously.

Leaning closer to Bucky, Remy whispered confidentially, “I put a little charge of kinetic energy on a few of the face cards so I could tell who had dem.” Sitting up straight in his chair again, he smiled proudly at Bucky.

Staring at him for a moment, Bucky finally said, “So, you were thrown out for cheating, and now you want me to win your money back?”

With a huge smile on his face, Remy just nodded his head. Then he said, “Look, we can talk about this later. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving!”

“Yeah, I can see that!” Bucky said looking up and down at the Cajun’s waif-like appearance. For a tall man, he was at least 25 pounds underweight. “Don’t they feed you at the school?”

“Yeah, but just because I’m not muscle-bound like you doesn’t mean I don’t eat,” Remy informed him.

“We’re in a bar and grill. Why don’t we just order something here?” Bucky asked.

“Nah...There’s better food to be found than at _dis_ place. Now, let’s see...” he thought for a moment. “I know! How about Dooky Chase? Come on! Let’s get going. ‘Dem crab cakes ain’t gonna eat demselves!’” he said rising from the table. Bucky had the feeling that somehow his night was going to get even more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although Gambit was my first favorite comic book hero, I did not know as much about his background as I should. Therefore, I would like to thank my sister, author Daria H. Brooks, for all her assistance with deciphering canon from fan fiction with Gambit’s biographical information. Her help was immensely valuable as she has a wealth of knowledge on the character, so I dedicate this story to her.


	2. Connaissances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the two men become better acquainted, Remy realizes that he should keep a closer eye on Bucky.

At Dooky Chase, Bucky and Remy ate a sumptuous meal. They split a crab cake appetizer and each had a cup of gumbo. For their entrées, Remy ordered the Red Fish Orleans while Bucky had the Double Cut Pork Chop. Bucky was glad that he let Remy talk him into the peach cobbler for dessert as it was particularly tasty that night. 

The two men rose to leave the restaurant and once outside, Remy yelled, “Ayeee! Chef Leah really put her foot in it tonight!”

Bucky froze and asked, “Wait!...What?” taking Remy’s comment literally.

“She put her foot in it. You’ve never heard that expression, vieil homme?” asked Remy dumbfounded.

“No!” replied Bucky wondering if he should push two fingers down his throat to induce vomiting.

“It means she outdid herself. Man, you really _are_ a Yankee, aren’t you?” Remy laughed.

“Uh...yeah…” Bucky replied somewhat relieved that there were no actual feet in his dinner. He had thoroughly enjoyed it and was glad that he would not have to throw up. He did enough of that for other reasons.

As they continued walking, Bucky looked up the street ahead of them. From behind, he saw a curvaceous redhead wearing a white mini skirt and a black tank top as she strolled with a thin blonde friend in a blue dress. ‘Could it be...?’ he wondered. His eyes blinked quickly to better focus. He was certain it was her.

All of a sudden, Bucky broke into a jog. Leaving Remy behind, he was determined to catch up with the redhead before he lost sight of her.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Remy called to him but was ignored.

As Bucky caught up to the woman, he placed his right hand tenderly on her bare left shoulder startling her and causing her to stop.

“Qui êtes-vous? Qu’est-ce que vous voulez?” she demanded as both she and her friend looked at him as if he had two heads.

Realizing that the redhead was not Natasha, Bucky was shocked and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so...s-sorry!” he stammered retracting his hand which began to tremble uncontrollably. His eyes teared as he tried to understand how he could have made such a mistake. From behind, she looked exactly like Natasha but seeing her face, he realized that the two women bore no resemblance at all.

Catching up to the group, Remy used his power of charm and begged in the best French he could muster, “S’il vous plaît lui pardonner, mademoiselle! Il est confus et pensé que vous étiez quelqu’un d’autre. Nous sommes désolés! Passe une bonne soirée.”

Succumbing to his charm, the red-head replied, “Tout va bien. Bonne nuit,” and continued walking with her friend.

When the ladies were out of earshot, Remy turned to his companion and asked in dismay, “Barnes, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

Fighting back tears, Bucky looked at the woman in the growing distance. “I thought she was Nat. How could I have been so wrong?” Bucky asked himself aloud.

“Dat girl put a spell on you stronger than a witch’s curse,” he said of Natasha. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

The two men started walking to the Pontiac GTO which Remy had driven to the restaurant. It was cherry red in color, and Remy had named it Crimson Voodoo after winning it in a poker game. Voodoo purred like a kitten, and he loved it even more than he loved his Harleys. “She’s my baby,” he said stroking the steering wheel. “This is one of the longest relationships I’ve been in,” he confessed as they drove, and he was not exaggerating.

Clearly worried about Bucky’s fragile state of mind, Remy suggested, “Let’s go over to my house and relax for a while. You need to get yourself together." Though he said nothing, Bucky thought it sounded like a good idea.

*  *  *  *  *  *

As Remy drove, Bucky’s head started to clear. “You live around here?” he asked.

“I’ve got a little place over in the Garden District. It’s not too far from here.” Thinking he should now keep a closer eye on his new partner, Remy asked, “Where are you staying?”                                                                                                          

“In a bed and breakfast off of Bourbon Street,” answered Bucky.

“How long did you reserve it for?” pried Remy.

“Day-to-day. Why?” inquired Bucky becoming suspicious.

“We should go get your things and you come stay with me,” he offered.

“That’s not necessary, and I wouldn’t want to impose,” replied Bucky earnestly.

“Don’t be silly. I’ve got plenty of room. Besides, we could get to know each other better. You don’t mind cats, do you?”

“Cats? No, I don’t think so,” Bucky remarked giving it some thought.

“Good! Then it’s settled. You come over to mine tonight, and we’ll get your things in the morning,” Remy decided.

“Well, if you don’t mind...” said Bucky. He didn’t want to be rude. He reminded himself that the two didn’t really know each other, and this would be a good opportunity to become more acquainted with one another.

“It’s settled,” Remy confirmed smiling to himself.

As they drove, Remy pointed out landmarks that he thought would be of interest to Bucky – not just to get his mind off of his mistake with the redhead but also because Remy was proud of his city.                                                                          

“That there is the famous St. Charles Streetcar Line,” he said pointing to a cable car as they passed it. “Over there is Commander’s Palace – the most famous restaurant in the city.”

“Why didn’t we go there tonight?” asked Bucky captivated by its engaging façade.

“Oh, we weren’t dressed right,” Remy answered referring to the restaurant’s dress code. “We’ll go another time,” he said assured that the two would do just that.

Remy continued to point out various landmarks along their drive. Some of them Bucky remembered from his trip with Natasha, but most were new to him.

Soon, Remy’s car pulled up in front of a narrow two-story house on a corner. It was pale yellow in color with white shutters and a white picket fence. On the ground floor, each window had its own flower box and on the second floor, a balcony ran the width of the house connecting two sets of French doors.

Bucky looked at the house and asked, “So, what’s this place?” expecting to hear that it was another historic landmark.

“This is _my_   house,” Remy beamed with pride.

 _“Your_  house?” Bucky asked with surprise.

“My papa, Jean-Luc, gave it to me as a wedding present when my ex-wife BellaDonna and I said, ‘I do,’” he informed his amazed partner.

Bucky expected Remy to live in a small, dark apartment much like his own. This bright and lovely house looked like something out of a children’s storybook and caught him completely off guard.

Driving around the corner, Remy turned the car into an alley and shifted the gear into park. Leaving the engine running, he stepped out and unlocked the double doors of his garage opening them to make room for the car. Returning to it, he slid back behind the wheel.

“I could have done that for you,” Bucky offered.

“No, dat’s all right!” Remy insisted. “You’re my guest.”

Remy guided the car in and was careful not to get too close to a pair of Harley-Davidson motorcycles parked against the right-hand wall. Bucky promised himself that before he left New Orleans, he would definitely get a closer look at those.

The two men exited the car, and Remy closed and locked the garage behind them. Leading the way, he entered a narrow back door and flipped a light switch on the wall to his right. Bucky looked around and saw that they were in a quaint kitchen. Although everything was clean and in its place, the kitchen seemed to be more used than that of most unmarried men. There were black-bottomed pots and pans hanging from hooks on a wall, and assorted cooking spoons stood in a large empty coffee can next to the stove. Bucky realized that in spite of his frail frame, his mutant partner clearly spent a lot of time in this room. 

As Remy entered the living room, he placed his car keys on a light brown credenza which was covered with picture frames. “Make yourself at home, Sergeant,” Remy said removing his jacket.

Bucky said, “Thanks,” and removed his jacket as well.

Remy then walked to a bookshelf where his MP3 player was docked between two speakers. He pushed the power button to turn it on and selected his favorite Zydeco playlist. As the device started to play “Ya Ya” by Buckwheat Zydeco, Remy turned to Bucky and asked, “Voulez-vous le grand tour de ma maison?” Given his background, he spoke Cajun rather than the purist French and knew from Bucky’s file that although he understood French, he didn’t speak much of it either. Remy decided that this was a good opportunity for both of them to practice.

“Oui! S’il vous plaît montrer la voie,” Bucky responded. The two laughed and Remy motioned for Bucky to follow him.

“You’ve seen the kitchen and this is the living room, of course.” Remy began. Opening a set of interior French doors to their left, he continued. “This is the master bedroom,” he said as he flipped a switch which activated a lighted ceiling fan. He paused to let his guest take it all in.

What stood out to Bucky was how simple yet elegant the room was. The curtain rods were attached at the very top of the walls and on them hung ceiling-to-floor purple drapes which were parted to show opaque white curtains underneath. The effect made the ceiling look higher than it actually was.

Remy’s queen-size bed took up half of the small room, and he dressed it in lavender sheets and pillow cases and a purple comforter that matched the drapes. There was a small, round nightstand on either side of the bed, and on each was a hurricane lamp atop a large, white lace doily.            

The doors of the built-in closet were decorated with Mardi Gras masks and beads of purple, gold, green and red. Looking around the room, Bucky glanced at himself in the rectangular mirror of the small low boy to the right of the bed. The top of it held more picture frames like those on the living room’s credenza. Turning to his right, he noticed a small en suite bathroom behind his host. Bucky thought the room was both classy and sexy at the same time.

Remy turned and walked across the living room as Bucky followed. Climbing the narrow staircase, Remy led his companion to the second floor. As he climbed the stairs, Bucky noticed even more photos on the wall to his right. “For a man who might be self-conscious about his appearance, he sure seems to take a lot of photos,” he thought.

At the top of the landing, Remy turned on the light in the hallway. He pointed to a room with each index finger and said, “These are the two guest bedrooms, and dat’s the bathroom,” he remarked pointing to the third room.

Looking down at three kittens skittering back and forth and pouncing on each other, Remy introduced them to the new houseguest. “Gentlemen, this is Sergeant Barnes. You behave for him, yeah?” Looking at Bucky, he continued. “The yellow one is Olivier. Dat brown one is Francois, and the black one is Sébastien.” Lowering his voice as if they could understand him, Remy warned Bucky, “Keep your eye on dat Sébastien. He thinks he owns the place.”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Bucky said good naturedly.

Laughing, Remy advised him, “Oh, don’t bother. Dem cats only speak French.”

For a moment, Bucky stared at his host utterly dumbfounded. He did not know what was funnier – the fact that he said the cats only “spoke French,” or the fact that he had just spoken to them in English.

“So, the top floor is all yours, Sergeant. Bienvenue chez moi,” he offered with a bow. “Just mind the cats if you get up in the middle of the night,” he said with a wink.

Bucky was speechless. He was taken aback by Remy’s kindness and once again felt guilty about being short with him at Antoine’s.

“Thank you for your generosity. I’m honored to be your guest,” said Bucky who had never lived in a real home himself. As an army brat, he moved around a lot, and his mother died not long after his father was stationed at Camp Lehigh. When his father died two years later in a training accident, Bucky convinced the camp’s colonel to let him stay on the base instead of sending him away to boarding school with his little sister Rebecca. Army barracks were all that Bucky knew, which is why his tiny dark apartment seemed perfectly suited to him. By comparison, this charming house in the beautiful Garden District seemed like a palace.

Clapping his hands together once, Remy said, “Now, let’s you and I go downstairs, get comfortable, and get to know one another better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connaissances = Acquaintances  
> “Vieil homme” = “Old man”  
> “Qui êtes-vous? Qu’est-ce que vous voulez?” = “Who are you? What do you want?”  
> “S’il vous plaît lui pardonner, mademoiselle!” = “Please pardon my friend, miss.”  
> “Il est confus et pensé que vous étiez quelqu’un d’autre” = “He is confused and thought you were someone else.”  
> “Nous sommes désolés!” = “We are sorry.”  
> “Passe une bonne soirée.” = “Have a good evening.”  
> “Tout va bien. Bonne nuit.” = “It is all right. Good-night.”  
> “Voulez-vous le grand tour de ma maison?” = “Do you want the grand tour of my house?”  
> “Oui! S’il vous plaît montrer la voie.” = “Yes! Please lead the way.”  
> “Bienvenue chez moi.” = “Welcome to my home.”
> 
> Names:  
> Olivier = olive tree  
> Francois = free  
> Sebastien = venerable, revered


	3. Curiosité

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Remy are curious about each other’s peculiarity and past, so they have many questions to ask.

Sitting shirtless at the petite kitchen table, Bucky and Remy stared at each other in silence – Bucky at Remy’s red irises with black sclera and Remy at Bucky’s cybernetic arm. A good five minutes had passed, and neither had said a word as they visually examined each other while forming a multitude of questions.

The idea had been Remy’s. “Let’s go ahead and put our cards on the table,” he had said. The two men had never met before this mission though they were aware of some of each other’s exploits.

Bucky agreed. “Sure. Let’s deal with the elephant in the room.”

Finally breaking the silence, Remy asked curiously, “Did it hurt?”

“Did _what_   hurt?” Bucky asked.

“When you died,” said Remy.

“Which time?” queried the assassin.

“The _first_   time,” clarified the thief.

Bucky considered the question for a moment then said, “I don’t remember. The human brain protects itself by shutting down its consciousness when the body undergoes extreme trauma, so a lot of that is lost in a mental fog. I was told that I suffered a concussion and amnesia when the buzz bomb I was trying to dismantle exploded. I vaguely recall that everything went black and when I awoke years later, I had this arm. I don’t remember it hurting because I was unconscious and it had healed by the time I awoke.

“Do you remember what happened right before the bomb went off?” Remy pressed.

“Sometimes, I have flashes of images from that day, but they’re all disconnected and usually don’t make much sense. After years of thinking about it, I do recall being scared as hell knowing that the bomb was about to detonate. Defusing bombs was one of my specialties, so I’d done it several times before. It’s just that one had been rigged to explode before the timer counted down. Steve and I realized it too late, and my left sleeve got caught on the buzz bomb...” Bucky’s voice grew softer and his words trailed off as he recalled the day his life changed forever.

“Have you ever tried wearing white sclera contact lenses?” Bucky queried.

“I tried dat once at Rogue’s suggestion. They’re uncomfortable, and I don’t have time for dat,” Remy said defiantly.

“But they would make you look more – ” started Bucky.

“What – normal?” Remy interjected.

“Well...yeah,” Bucky said.

With a sharp laugh, Remy replied, “It’s easier to just be me. Why try being something I’m not?”

Bucky felt there was wisdom in his response. “You wear those dark glasses, but the arms are pretty wide. They hide your eyes from the sides, but doesn’t that block your peripheral vision?”

“Well…yeah, but I get by,” Remy replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Is it cold?” Remy asked looking at his guest’s cybernetic arm. 

“Of course. Touch it,” Bucky offered as he extended his left arm and placed it on the table in front of the curious mutant.

Hesitantly, Remy reached out and placed his hand on the forearm of the cybernetic prosthesis. “Man, dat’s ice cold, yeah! If you don’t mind my saying so, I imagine the ladies might find it a bit off-putting, no?”

Sadness washed over Bucky’s face like a shadow suddenly being cast. He slowly lowered his head until his chin almost rested on his chest. “Well, my bed’s been pretty cold most of my life,” he confided.

Surprised by this confession, Remy offered supportively, “I find dat hard to believe, Sergeant.”

Speaking barely above a whisper, Bucky replied, “I wouldn’t admit it if it weren’t true.”

Raising his head again, he met his host’s gaze. The two men stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Bucky studied the mutant’s red irises wondering how much emotional and physical pain at the hands of others he must have endured because of them. His own blue irises contained yellow flecks reminiscent of the numerous knives he must have thrown as the world’s most lethal assassin. ‘How many horrors have those eyes seen?’ Remy wondered. ‘How many deaths had that arm caused?’

Finally, Remy broke the silence. “How do you stand the coldness?”

“I get by,” Bucky replied mimicking his host. The two laughed for a moment but became serious again.

“Sometimes the coldness wakes me up if I roll over while sleeping. For a long time, I used to put a pillow between it and my torso. During the winter, I usually activate its sensory array at night so it feels like flesh and isn’t as cold to the touch.”  

“Its _what_   now?” Remy questioned.

“Its sensory array,” informed Bucky. “The arm houses different sensors that allow me to pass through security and metal detectors without setting them off. It even cloaks other metal objects that I have on my body like firearms and knives.”

“So, you can go through security armed to the teeth, and no one would know?” Remy asked amazed.

“Correct...as long as I don’t get a pat-down,” he admitted. 

Intrigued, Remy asked, “What else can it do?”

“Well, it can discharge bolts of electrical energy from the palm and shoot electromagnetic pulses that can shut down electronic devices. I came close to using it on Iron Man. I still blame him for Steve's shooting and for the superhuman civil war,” Bucky confessed.

“Lord, I would have paid good money to see Stark’s iron suit get shut down!” laughed Remy.

“As much as I disagreed with all that, I shouldn’t criticize the man. After all, I owe him a debt of gratitude.”

“Oh yeah? What for?” queried Remy.

“When I was Captain America and charged with treason, before they put me in jail, the Attorney General demanded that my arm be removed. Tony Stark used his influence in Washington to lobby for me to keep it. He stressed that as an amputee, I needed it to take care of basic personal needs and to protect myself. The only reason I was allowed to keep it was because Tony offered to disable its superhuman powers. So, I was able to keep my arm in jail and later in the gulag only because it was converted to a normal prosthesis,” Bucky explained.

Remy tried to imagine the indignity Bucky must have suffered to have his arm even come up for debate. Shaking his head, Remy offered, “I’m sorry, man. Dat’s a terrible shame. I really mean dat.”

Knowing that he did, Bucky quietly said, “Thank you, Remy.” After giving it a moment of thought, Bucky offered, “Oh yeah! It can also determine the weight of any object and judge the amount of thrust and the trajectory needed for pinpoint accuracy.”

Remy’s eyes opened as big as saucers. “So, who’s better at throwing the shield – you or Cap?” he wondered.

“I am...as long as I throw with my left hand,” Bucky replied without the hint of bragging. To him, it was just a fact.

Wanting to see if his answer would change, Remy asked, “Who do you think would be the most accurate at playing darts – you, Cap, Hawkeye, Bullseye or me?”

“I would. Again, that’s if I throw left-handed,” Bucky replied matter-of-factly.

“You and I should test that theory one day,” the Cajun laughed.

“It’s not a theory,” Bucky reminded him. “It’s the arm.”

“Well, when this mission is over, you owe me a game of darts,” challenged Remy. “So, back up a minute. You can make that arm _feel_  like flesh?” Remy asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed.

“Did you ask for that?” wondered Remy.

“No,” Bucky said. “Natasha did.”

Confused, Remy said, “I don’t follow.”

“One day, Nick Fury called me in for an upgrade. He did that periodically, so I didn’t think anything of it. Only this one day, he had the techs do some extensive work on my arm and the next thing I know, it can cloak itself. When I asked him what made him think to do that, he said that Yelena had been ‘whining’ about how cold my hand was. So, the upgrade included a device that makes it look and feel like flesh.”

“I’ll bet your girl appreciated dat!” laughed Remy.

“Yeah. Yes, she did,” Bucky agreed with a shy smile remembering how intimacy with Natasha was so much better when she no longer flinched at the icy touch of his left hand. He had thought that sex with her was already amazing but when he cloaked his arm, she became completely uninhibited. 

“Well, let me see dat! How does it work?” Remy yelped excitedly.

Bucky leaned forward to show him a small blue button with a tiny white dot in its center which was located where the back of his neck and left shoulder met.

“I just push this, and…” he said as he depressed the button with his right index finger and before Remy’s eyes, the silver arm appeared to transform into flesh.

“Whoa! Dat’s cool!” exclaimed Remy. “Can I feel it?” he begged.

“Sure,” Bucky said laughing.

“Incroyable!” the mutant said. “So, if it can do dat, why don’t you cloak it all the time?”

Bucky took a deep breath and let it out as he thought. “I guess it’s like you said about just being who you are. The silver arm is who I am now. Why try to be something that I’m not? I cloak it when I need to – when I'm intimate with Yelena, or at airports and the like. Otherwise...” he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders.

After another pause, Bucky asked, “Are they light sensitive?” referring to Remy’s eyes.

“Yes,” he replied.

“So, you see better in the dark?” the curious soldier queried.

“Yes. It’s more comfortable for me to have dim light,” Remy confessed.

“I see,” replied Bucky. “So, the dark glasses aren’t just to hide your eyes from others but to protect them as well.”

“Hence the dark curtains,” the mutant advised him pointing to the living room drapes.

“Do you see like other people do?” Bucky wondered.

“Yes and no,” replied Remy. “I see objects the same way you do. I see this table between us. I see the chair you’re sitting in. I see you but apparently, I’m color blind,” he confessed.

“How do you know that?” asked Bucky.

“Rogue told me,” he said. As his guest raised an eyebrow, he continued. “Once, we were going out somewhere, and she asked, ‘You’re not seriously gonna to wear that, are you?’” he said putting his right hand on his hip and feigning her Mississippi accent, which Bucky found hilarious. “I asked her what she meant, and she said, ‘You really don’t know, do you, sugar?’ Apparently, I can’t distinguish colors so I guess in dat way, I _don’t_   see things the way other people do.”

“That’s very odd, then,” Bucky observed. “If you’re color blind, why is your home décor so perfectly matched?”

Remy laughed heartily. “I have the local home furnishings store to thank for dat! They have pre-packaged matching sheets, comforters, drapes – whatever you need. I just tend to buy the darkest sets because dats how my taste runs. Plus, I need the dark curtains because of my eyes. Sometimes, I ask Tante Mattie – the Thieves Guild healer – or one of the shop girls what she thinks about the colors. They got some jolies filles down at dat store, mon ami. I should take you there sometime,” he offered with a wink.

“I thought you quit smoking,” Bucky said.

“I did,” confirmed Remy.

“Then why do you have that big, black ashtray on your coffee table?” accused Bucky.

“Oh, dat was a gift from my cousin Lapin. It has valeur sentimentale – sentimental value,” he informed his guest as he picked up a peppermint twist from a small bowl on the kitchen table. He popped it into his mouth – wrapper and all – and after working it for a moment, he pulled out the empty cellophane. Holding it in front of Bucky between his right thumb and index finger, the wrapper burst into flame. The two men smiled as tiny pieces flickered like a 4th of July sparkler and disintegrated.

“And the peppermint is for what? I saw another bowl of them in your bedroom,” Bucky confessed.

“The peppermint is because I quit smoking. Call it an oral fixation, Sergeant, but it’s just a substitution for cigarettes,” the thin young man informed him.

“The ladies must enjoy that parlor trick with the wrapper,” Bucky smirked.

“Yeah, they kind of do,” he replied with a sly smile. “I learned dat in a brothel.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d have to pay for sex,” Bucky said to his handsome companion.

“Oh, I don’t,” Remy concurred. “It might not say this in my file, but I lived in the Antiquary’s brothel for four years when I was a child,” he said studying Bucky’s face for his reaction. “Because of my eyes, my biological papa threw me in a dumpster when I was born. Someone found me and took me to a hospital, but the Antiquary had me kidnapped. You see, there was a prophecy that I would one day unite the feuding Thieves and Assassins Guilds, and not everyone wanted to hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya’ if you know what I mean. From the prophecy, the Antiquary also knew that I was a mutant, so he thought he might find a way to siphon my powers. He routinely had les enfants kidnapped and raised for the sex trade, so I learned about the pleasures of the flesh at an early age.”

As he spoke, Bucky’s face had become drawn and he stared unblinking at his partner. His hands – which had been relaxed on the table – were now balled into fists, and his arms shook slightly from an adrenaline rush.

“If you think dat wrapper was cool, I should tie a cherry stem in a knot for you,” Remy said and then licked his lips. “That trick kills,” the sexy mutant advised.

Bucky found no humor in Remy’s levity. He hated bullies of any kind, and the thought of the young man sitting across from him being first tossed away like garbage and then groomed as a male prostitute made the soldier sick to his stomach.

Fighting the urge to vomit, Bucky said softly, “No, that was not in your file. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear it.” A quick sniffle betrayed just how deeply Remy’s story touched Bucky.

“I appreciate dat, Sergeant, but there’s no point in dwelling on it,” he replied. Changing the subject, he asked, “Where did you get dat scar on your right shoulder?”

Expressionless, Bucky answered, “Sometimes my master beat me even after I performed a successful mission – if he thought I could’ve done better, or just to remind me that he was in charge.”

Suddenly angry, Remy barked, “ _‘Master?’_   Why you call him dat?”

The soldier looked down at the tabletop. _“‘Master’_ – whoever held my leash,” he replied with a shrug. “My Hydra file says I was on the auction block or offered in trade a few times. They’d sell my cryostasis tube and activation code to the highest bidder. Whoever bought them was my master.”

“What codes, Sergeant?” Remy asked.

Looking up at his companion, Bucky explained. “Each of us sleeper agents – assassins – had a code to open his stasis tube and activate him.”

Remy looked confused, so Bucky continued.

“You can’t just awake up a sleeper agent as if we were simply ‘asleep.’ Awakening a sleeper is a multi-step process. It has to be done carefully and slowly or else the sleeper could either die or go insane. It takes hours, and the process includes programming him for the next mission as well.”

Remy’s body went limp with the weight of this revelation. “How do you live with the realization that every time you were awakened, you could’ve at best gone insane and at worst died?”

“I try not to think about it. Why do you care?” Bucky asked earnestly.

Surprised by the question, the thief responded, “I was a slave to the Antiquary and to Mr. Sinister doing and stealing things I didn’t want to do. So like you, my strings were being pulled by a puppet master. That’s why I care.”

Feeling sorry for asking the question, Bucky offered, “I’m sorry, LeBeau. I didn’t mean – ”

“No offense taken, Sergeant,” he interjected.

After a few moments of silence, Remy asked, “You say you don’t work for SHIELD, yet you often seem to be involved in their missions. Why is that?”

“As I said before, I don’t work for SHIELD. I work missions for Nick Fury, but I’m a free agent and answer to no one,” Bucky advised him.

“So, if Nick called and asked you to do something for him, you could say no?” pressed Remy.

“Yeah. I can say no if I don’t want to do it,” Bucky insisted.

‘Hmm...’ Remy thought. “He’s never tried to guilt you into doing anything?”

Bucky felt trapped. He didn’t want to admit it, but there were many times that he didn’t want to do something but did because Nick said, ‘You owe me, kid!’

Trying to deflect the accusation, Bucky asked, “What about you and Mr. Sinister? You say you didn’t want to work for him. Why did you?”

“I didn’t want to but had to,” Remy reiterated. “I owed him my life. He helped me when I temporarily lost control of my powers, so I had to do what he asked. You more than anyone should understand that. Didn’t Fury save your life? That puts us in the same boat, as far as I’m concerned,” he deduced.

“Sure, I owe Nick for protecting me and providing me with a livelihood after Steve restored my memories. I owed him for giving me the last of his stash of the Infinity Formula after Red Skull’s daughter Sin killed me. Fury is a war hero. Don’t compare him to Mr. Sinister,” warned Bucky giving him the merciless stare for which Winter Soldier was known.

Remy was undeterred. Countering him, he replied, “Oh, I’m not comparing _them,_ mon ami. I’m comparing _you and me._ Both of us jumped when those men said, ‘Jump!’ Both of us had a leash and did things we didn’t want to do because those men told us to. You may not want to admit it, but dat is true. You were taking orders when you were in the Army. You took orders from Hydra, and now you take orders from Fury. You’ve never been your own man, Sergeant. Wouldn’t you like that one day?”

The two men studied each other’s faces in silence for a few moments. Then, Remy stood, walked to the refrigerator, and opened the freezer door. Pulling out a can of Luzianne coffee, he then used the scoop inside to empty six level spoonfuls into the coffee maker on the counter. He filled the carafe to the seven cup water line, placed it under the drip hole, and flipped the power switch to start brewing.

While Remy began taking coffee mugs out of a cabinet, the soldier studied his shirtless physique. Looking at his back, Bucky noted that he could virtually count each vertebrae of the mutant’s spine. At 6 feet 2 inches, Remy was two inches taller than his guest was but weighed only 180 pounds compared to Bucky’s muscular 210 pounds. In spite of his thin frame, he did have muscle as Bucky noted.

“Why are you so skinny?” the soldier asked. “You eat as much as I do, but you don’t seem to gain any weight.”

“I’ve always been skinny. I grew up on the streets and fended for myself stealing food to survive. Many days, I just didn’t eat. I’m a cat burglar, so being thin is an occupational asset, yes?”

Bucky gave him a half smile to let him know that he understood.

“Do you smoke, Sergeant?” Remy asked.

“No, I don’t,” he replied.

“Do you like coffee?”

“I drink it sometimes but not every day,” Bucky confessed.

The thin mutant placed two Café du Monde mugs between them on the table. He then removed from the refrigerator a creamer filled with milk and placed it on the table as well.

“Hmm...” Remy said. “Then why are your teeth slightly discolored?” he queried.

Realizing that he’d just been played, Bucky sat motionless staring at his host. “Did you really want coffee, or did you just really want to ask that question?” he asked defensively.

“Both, but remember, Sergeant – all cards on the table,” Remy reminded him.

Annoyed by the question, Bucky decided that in all fairness and for the sake of full disclosure, he owed it to Remy to answer him.

“When one vomits with any regularity, the stomach acids eat at the enamel of the teeth,” he said refusing to make eye contact.

“I see...and why does ‘one’ vomit?” Remy pressed.

Bucky sighed knowing that he wasn’t going to just let it go. “When I think of the unforgivable things that I did as the Winter Soldier, I can’t bear it. It makes me sick to my stomach, and I sometimes vomit.”

“I know you seek redemption, Barnes, but before you’re forgiven by others, you need to forgive yourself,” Remy advised.

Shaking his head, Bucky confessed, “That will never happen. I have too much to answer for.”

Pouring coffee in their mugs, Remy said, “Others don’t think you deserve the life sentence you’ve given yourself.”

“But many people do,” Bucky informed him. “This arm is a life sentence,” he said nodding to his left. “For as long as I have it, I’ll need to pay for what I did.”

Remy realized that there was no changing his mind about it, so he sat across from the soldier and changed the subject.

“Do you see Natasha often?” he asked knowing this was a touchy matter as well.

“The Avengers keep her pretty busy,” Bucky replied. “She’s going through some doubts right now about our relationship and working through some issues, but I see her when I can. She’s doing well, though. That’s the most important thing.”

Before Remy could stop himself, he said, “I can see in your face just how much you love dat girl. Your confusion with dat redhead on Orleans Avenue outside of Dooky Chace confirmed dat. I’m sure dat if she didn’t put duty first, you’d be together now. I’m sure Natasha appreciates how you feel about her.”

Bucky knew that he couldn’t respond because if he tried to, he would fall apart. His face remained stern as a single tear rolled down his right cheek.

Finally, Bucky managed another question. “How could you bear not being able to touch such a lovely girl as Rogue? You two were meant for each other. She’s your other half.”

“It ain’t easy now, mon ami, but there was a brief time when we were ‘normal,’” Remy confessed. Bucky leaned forward eager to hear his partner’s tale. “I don’t know if you remember it, but there was about a six-month period when we mutants lost our powers. During that period, she lost her power to siphon other mutants’ powers and draw the life force out of any human. Likewise, I lost my power to kinetically charge objects and my eyes were normal.”

“Wait... _what?”_   Bucky asked in utter dismay.

“My eyes were normal,” the thief said matter-of-factly.

“What color were they? What did they look like?” Bucky pried excitedly.

Remy smiled and said, “Well, they looked kind of like yours. We took lots of pictures. Remind me to show you sometime.”

“What was it like to touch Rogue? Was it as amazing as you thought it would be?” asked the soldier.

The thief smiled and admitted, “Oh, we had touched once or twice before we lost our powers, and it didn’t go well for either of us. But when we lost our powers…” his voice trailed off as he reminisced.

“WHAT? Don’t leave me hanging!” Bucky insisted.

“For a while, we had a little place on the West Coast where we made up for lost time,” he began as he smiled to himself. “Man, did the neighbors complain. Dat girl howled like a wolf every night. Let’s just say no one was surprised when we broke dat bed, yeah,” Remy said proudly. Both men laughed at the thought of it.

“What about you and ‘brick top?’ You were lovers when you were younger, no?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, we were. We fell in love when I helped to train her in the Red Room assassin’s program. She was completing her training for her Black Widow status, and I was in the sleeper agent program. Back then, I thought it was the real thing. Then, she got married and I let her go. We didn’t cross paths again until Steve was shot during the superhuman civil war. She sided with Tony Stark who dispatched her to steal Steve’s shield, and I was determined that no one else would have it. I’m not proud of it, but I beat her ass good. That’s the only time I ever laid a hand on her in anger.”

This admission shocked Remy, but he let Bucky continue. “Seeing her again, I remembered the love we made while in the Red Room program. I thought it was just a matter of circumstance that we became lovers because we were in such close proximity during her training. Then, when I assumed the role of Captain America, we rekindled what we had before her marriage. That’s when I realized we really _did_  mean something to one another.”

Smiling with his left eye hidden by his long auburn bangs, Remy replied, “I just gotta ask – is the sex good, cher?”

“REMY!” Bucky yelled.

“Oh, come on, now! Dat girl is smokin’ hot. I had to ask!” the Cajun waif admitted.

“Yeah, and you with no filter,” the soldier remarked. They both laughed until tears rolled down their faces.

When they finally stopped, Remy pressed on. “No, really...is it good?”

Seeing that his partner was not going to stop until his question was answered, the assassin finally confessed, “Yes! The sex is great – even better than when we were younger.”

“Any complaints from the neighbors?” Remy wondered.

“None,” Bucky admitted.

Suddenly serious, Remy asked, “None? Then, maybe you weren’t doing it right, mon ami. You know dat I know about these things, yeah?” he said referring to his time in the brothel.

Leaning forward as if confessing his most intimate secret, Bucky said, “We were trained assassins, and we’re both still the best on the planet. Being a loud assassin is like being a chubby cat burglar. We learned early on to make love in total silence after we were caught twice by our minders in the Red Room program. They punished me by putting me into stasis, and they punished her by making her watch. The best night of my life was the night we had sex in every position imaginable and left our DNA on every inch of her room. It was a big risk but worth it. After I took over as Cap, we tried that again, but it just seems a little silly when you’re a bit older. Anyway, being silent is something we learned and never forgot. It’s engrained in us, so no, the neighbors never complained.”

“But when you were caught, you didn’t stop?” the helpless romantic asked with tears in his eyes.

“No, we didn’t. Until she married and we were separated, she was always my first thought when I was brought out of cryosleep – always,” the soldier said with his voice starting to crack.

The room was quiet again as both men thought about the women they loved. They could hear the wall clock tick and with each passing minute, they became a bit sadder.

Finally, Remy observed, “Well, ain’t we a pair? The two of us could write a book on being used, abused, the search for redemption, and love. It hurts something terrible, doesn’t it?”

Clearing his throat, Bucky used both hands to brush his long, dark hair out of his face. “Speaking of unrequited love, how _is_  Rogue?” he asked.

“She’s doing pretty good. Thanks for asking,” Remy replied.

“Do you still see her? How are things between you?” wondered Bucky.

“I see her now and then. She’s doing well. We’re not lovers anymore, but we’re still friends,” Remy replied trying to remain stoic.

“She once worked intel on a mission I was on,” Bucky recalled. “She was on comms. She’s a smart girl and lovely to boot. You should try to make things right with her and settle down,” he recommended.

Looking wistfully, Remy said, “Oh, mon coeur! I loved dat girl more than life itself, but our hearts don’t beat as one right now. I have a feeling dat one day they will again,” the Cajun avowed.

“You sound like an eternal optimist,” Bucky supposed as he took a sip of coffee.

“Dat I am, Seargeant. Dat I am,” admitted Remy looking a bit forlorn himself.       

As the evening grew late, Remy had just a few more questions for his partner. “Just how old are you, James?” 

“I don’t know,” Bucky replied. “In calendar years, I guess I’m about 95 years old. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” said Remy dismissively, but he wasn’t letting his guest off that easily. “Now, the reason you look so young is because of all those years in stasis?”

“Yeah,” agreed the assassin. “I was in stasis for two thirds of my life, so that kept me young. Then as I said, when I died the last time, Fury offered the scientists his last few batches of the Infinity Formula to bring me back to life.”

“That was quite a sacrifice on his part. Why’d he do dat?”

“He did it for Steve. He knew Steve wouldn’t continue as Captain America if I were dead again, so he had me brought back to life.”

“Wow,” Remy replied. “So, how old do you _think_  you are?”

“Well, I guess I’m about twenty-nine or thirty. I really don’t know,” the soldier confessed.

“Hmm...” wondered the thief. “So, you’ll look dat young forever?”

The assassin thought for a moment and then said, “It’s been speculated that I’ll probably age one day for every year I’m alive.”

“Mon Dieu!” cried Remy. “In a few years, you’ll be calling _me_ ‘old man!’” Both men howled with laughter at the thought of it.

As Remy picked up the empty coffee mugs and placed them in the sink, he advised, “We best call it a night, cher. We got a busy day ahead of us.”

“Yeah,” said Bucky. “I’m glad we had this talk, LeBeau.”

“Me too, Barnes,” agreed his Cajun friend. “Well, good-night, soldier, and remember – watch out for them cats!”

Smiling, Bucky said, “I’ll remember,” as he climbed the stairs.

Remy turned off the dim lights downstairs and entered the master bedroom. Both men felt at ease and assured that they could now trust one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curiosité = Curiosity  
> “Dat” = “That” with Remy’s Cajun accent  
> “Incroyable!” = “Incredible!”  
> “Jolies filles” = “Cute girls”  
> “Les enfants” = “Children”  
> “Mon Dieu” = “My God”  
> “Oh, mon coeur!” = “Oh, my heart!”
> 
> Thanks again to my sister, author Daria H. Brooks, for the beta read and for her help with the biographical background on Remy LeBeau (Gambit). As always, she was a great resource.


	4. Fais Do-Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission starts to take shape. Bucky and Remy get some useful information.

It was 8:00 the next morning, and Bucky was lying naked on his back in the full-size bed in one of Remy’s upstairs bedrooms. Asleep, he was startled awake by the realization that he was suffocating. Opening his eyes, all he saw was black.

Suddenly, he heard Remy yell, “Sébastien! Descendre de lui, vous mauvais chat!”

As the black feline leapt from his face and sauntered out the door, Bucky gasped for air. Sitting up, he saw Remy standing in the doorway. 

“Didn’t I warn you about them cats – especially dat Sébastien?” the thief admonished his guest. “What were you thinking letting dat cat sit on your face, Barnes?”

Dumbfounded, the assassin asked, _“Let_ him?”

Shaking his head, Remy asked in his thick Cajun accent, “Sergeant Barnes, what I gonna do with you?” 

“What...he...I...,” Bucky tried to explain but gave up.

“I just came up to tell you dat breakfast is ready. Looks like I got here just in time, yeah,” advised Remy. Turning to leave, he shook his head again and mumbled, “Hmph! Playing with them cats!”

For a moment, Bucky sat there confused. “What just happened here?” he asked aloud.

*  *  *  *  *  *

After a quick shower, Bucky put on his clothes from the day before which the soldier had folded neatly according to his military training and placed on the small chair next to the bedroom door. Descending the stairs, he could smell a cacophony of enticing aromas.

Upon entering the kitchen, he saw Remy wearing jeans and a green t-shirt which was protected by an apron featuring on the right a cartoon gator stirring a pot. On the left was its giant crawfish assistant which held a bottle of hot sauce. The apron was emblazoned with the warning ‘Don’t Mess With The Cook.’

“Can I help you with something? Bucky asked.

Without looking at him, Remy replied, “Thanks, but I’m just about finished here.”

Noticing that his host was deep frying something, Bucky peeked into a large bowl on the stove which Remy had covered with a tea towel.

“Beignets? We’re having donuts for breakfast?” he asked looking disappointed. The Army had accustomed him to heartier meals.

“If you don’t want beignets, you can have ‘breakfast surprise,’” advised Remy. 

“‘Breakfast surprise?’ What’s that?” queried Bucky.

Handing him a spatula, Remy proclaimed, “Surprise! You make you own breakfast!” 

“Hmph!” Bucky whimpered holding the utensil as the disgust registered on his face. “You know, I can cook, but I just don’t like to.”

Taking the spatula from him, Remy said, “I just kid with you, Barnes! I made quiche as well. Now, sit yourself down at the table.”

Smiling, Bucky did just that. He noticed movement over in the corner by the back door and saw that Olivier and François were eating from a bowl of cat food which Remy placed there for them. Sébastien sat next to them but instead of eating, he glared at Bucky. Meeting his gaze, Bucky stared right back. Finally, he stuck out his tongue, and Sébastien responded by hissing at him. 

“Are you messing with dat cat again, Barnes? What’d he ever do to you?” Remy asked as he removed the quiche from the oven using mitts which looked like giant crawfish claws.

“Well, for starters, he tried to kill me...” Bucky reminded him.

“Listen, don’t pay him no mind. Like I said, he thinks he owns the place. You’re on his turf, so he just needs to get used to you. Dat’s all,” advised Remy.               

Bucky sighed and said, “I suppose, but to be on the safe side, I’m keeping a close eye on him.”

Remy plated Bucky’s breakfast and placed it in front of him. The hungry assassin could not wait to taste  the large wedge of spinach and mushroom quiche, slices of tasso ham, two corn cakes, and a cup of Luzianne coffee with chicory.

“Thank you!” said Bucky grinning ear to ear.

“De rien!” replied Remy as he served himself.

When he turned and placed his plate on the table, he realized that Bucky was not eating.

“Is something wrong, Sergeant?” he asked perplexed.

“No. I’m just waiting for you,” the assassin told his gracious host. 

They both smiled as Remy removed his apron, sat, and took a sip of his coffee.

“What time did you get up to do all this?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, not too early. It didn’t take long, no,” Remy assured him.

“Everything is delicious!” mumbled Bucky with a full mouth. “It’s so much better than ‘breakfast surprise.’”

“Thanks,” he replied. The two sat eating in silence for a few moments when all of a sudden, the cell phone in Remy’s pocket started to ring. Looking a little concerned at the caller ID, he asked, “Do you mind if I take this?”

“Go right ahead,” his partner said.

Walking through the living room and entering his bedroom, Remy answered the phone. He spoke quietly, so Bucky was unable to hear what was said. All he could tell was that it did not sound like a casual call.

Upon his return, Remy finished his meal and then placed the bowl of beignets on the table. Next to it, he put a smaller bowl of powdered sugar.

Bucky was curious about the call but did not feel comfortable asking about it. He thought that perhaps he could read something in his partner’s face which might indicate what it was about. 

Finally, Remy spoke. “Now, after we finish breakfast, I’ll run you over to the bed and breakfast to get your things. Then, I need to go see my cousin Lapin. He got some information dat might help us with the mission tonight.”

Bucky felt a little out of the loop just hearing about this now, so he asked, “Mind if I go with you?”

“No, you can come along. It’ll give you a chance to see more of the city,” Remy offered.

Finding the opportunity to ask, Bucky inquired, “Is that what the phone call was about – more intel?”

“No, dat call was from my old friend Celeste. She’s in a bit of a bind right now and asked for my help. I promised I’ll go see her tomorrow,” the Cajun informed him.

“Okay. We should get going,” Bucky replied licking powdered sugar off of his fingertips.

Remy cleared the table and put the dishes in the sink. Returning the tea towel to the bowl of beignets, he placed the bowl in the oven so the cats would not get to it.

Picking up his keys from the credenza, Remy led the way through the back door.

“Garçons, être bon!” Remy advised the cats as he passed them.

The two men opened the garage door and this time, he let Bucky close and lock it after he backed Crimson Voodoo out of it.

*  *  *  *  *  * 

As Remy drove the car to the bed and breakfast, Bucky’s thoughts went back to the redhead on Orleans Avenue the day before.

For a few moments, he watched the wind blowing the mutant’s long auburn bangs into his face. Curious, he asked him, “If you’re color blind, how did you know that the girl on Orleans Avenue was a redhead?”

“Is Natasha a redhead?” Remy asked him.

At first, Bucky thought he was avoiding the question but answered him anyway. “You know that she is.”

“Then, the girl on Orleans Avenue had to be a redhead to have dat effect on you,” Remy said logically.

Bucky stared at his driver for a moment and then remarked, “You know, you’re smarter than people think you are.”

“It’s really not that difficult, Barnes...and thanks...I think,” replied Remy.

Smiling, Bucky turned to his right and looked at some of the shops as they drove past. It was a lovely section of town, and he was glad that he was seeing it from Remy’s point of view.

Suddenly, Bucky screamed, “Stop the car!”

Startled, Remy asked, “What?”

“PULL OVER!” Bucky yelled.

Remy saw an empty space and pulled the car into it. Before he could ask what was happening, Bucky threw the door open and ran to the front of a store which was two doors past the shop where Remy stopped. Getting out of the car, he ran over to see what Bucky was so excited about.

“What’s wrong, Barnes?” Remy asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. This place has Fiestaware!” Bucky advised his perplexed companion. “You know...the dinnerware...”

Remy said, “I know what it is, but what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that this stuff is _vintage_ – not the cheesy copies that some companies started making,” said Bucky with a gleam in his eyes.

“I thought you don’t like to cook,” Remy reminded his partner.

“I don’t, but I like to eat...and I collect these. They remind me of when I was young. My mom had a complete set,” he recalled and became misty at just the thought of it. “I’ll be right back!”

Bucky entered the antiques shop which sold items on consignment. Through the front window, Remy watched as he asked for the proprietor’s business card. They chatted for a moment and then shook hands.

Returning with a huge smile on his face, Bucky said, “She’s going to set those aside for me, and I’m going to ship them back to my place before I leave New Orleans.”

“...but they’re old and used,” Remy said slowly as he and Bucky reached the car.

 _“Vintage!”_   Bucky yelled over the roof before opening the door and getting in.

Remy sighed heavily and started the car’s engine. “You’re an odd bird, ain’t you, mon frère?” he asked.

Bucky simply looked at the Cajun and stuck out his tongue.

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Coming to a stop in front of the bed and breakfast, Remy turned off the car’s engine. It only took Bucky a few minutes to go upstairs, change his clothes, pay the proprietor, and throw his duffle bag into the trunk which Remy opened for him.

“Now, we go see Cousin Lapin,” Remy announced with glee. “I think you gonna like him. He’s my best friend.”

Although Bucky knew his partner was an orphan like himself, he looked forward to meeting anyone that Remy considered ‘family.’ He was glad that there was someone who cared about the mutant waif.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Cousin Lapin lived a bit further from the center of New Orleans than Remy did, so the drive gave the two partners time to talk.

“You know, Nick Fury has a high opinion of you,” Bucky stated.

Surprised, Remy asked, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” replied Bucky. “He said that you’re one of the best hand-to-hand combatants he’s ever seen, and Nick’s lived a _long_  time and seen a lot over the years.”

Instead of looking where he was driving, Remy stared at Bucky in disbelief.

“Watch the road, LeBeau!” Bucky yelled.

Remy was not accustomed to receiving praise – especially not from other men in the ‘superhero community’ since they distrusted him as much as they did Bucky.

Facing forward again, Remy asked, “He really said dat?”

“Yeah, he did,” Bucky replied earnestly.

“Well, dat’s nice to know. Thanks for telling me,” Remy responded clearly touched by the praise.

Bucky nodded. “My pleasure.”

After a few moments of silence, Bucky asked, “So, what do you teach at the school?”

Remy answered, “Mostly, I teach the kids how to defend themselves. As you know, it’s a tough ol’ world for us mutants. Informally, I also teach shop and cooking.”

Smiling, Bucky replied, “Those are two skills that will come in handy!”

“You better believe it, Sergeant,” Remy laughed.       

*  *  *  *  *  *

Finding themselves in a neighborhood where there were large front lawns and more space between the houses, the twosome began to hear Zydeco music being played nearby. Remy parked Crimson Voodoo one-door down from a light green house where someone was hosting a party.

Exiting the car, Bucky saw people sitting in chairs on the front lawn. At one side of the lawn was a band playing Zydeco music while at the other side near the house, a long table was set up next to a large barbecue grill that heaped grey smoke into the air. In the center of the yard was a removable parquet floor for dancing.

“What’s this?” asked Bucky speaking loud enough for Remy to hear him over the music.

“It’s a fais do-do – a Cajun dance party,” Remy yelled back.

“It’s sort of early to start a party, isn’t it? It’s not even lunchtime yet,” Bucky remarked.

“Early?” asked Remy. “This party started two days ago, mon ami! It’s been going nonstop.”

Shocked, Bucky asked, “Really? What’s the occasion?”

“In New Orleans, you don’t need a reason!” Remy replied as he led his companion into the house.

“Cousin Remy, I see you come back!” yelled Estelle, a petite blonde in the living room. “You get your second wind, ma chérie? Venez danser avec moi!” she said as she took his hand and caressed it.

“Restez ici, mon amour! Je reviendrai, Estelle,” replied Remy as he walked toward the kitchen.

“Your cousin is rather friendly,” observed Bucky.

“Dat girl ain’t my cousin, Barnes,” laughed Remy.

“Then why did she call you ‘cousin?’” he asked.

“Down here, lots of folks call each other cousin. Consider it a term of endearment. Dat’s all,” Remy replied.

“Well, what about Lapin? Is _he_ your cousin?” Bucky asked for the sake of clarification.

“Yeah! He’s my papa Jean-Luc’s nephew, so he’s my cousin,” answered Remy. “Why you making this so difficult?”

“I...I was just wondering,” Bucky confessed.

“You think too much, Barnes. Relax! You just might have fun,” recommended Remy.

*  *  *  *  *  * 

The kitchen was crowded, but the twosome managed to squeeze their way in. Partiers greeted Remy with smiles and salutations. Some even hugged or kissed him on the cheek. In contrast, most guests turned to look at Bucky and eyed the stranger from head to toe. Some stared at him for a few moments before going back to what they were doing – preparing food or mixing drinks.

Bucky felt awkward and out-of-place, so he backed his way into the living room where it was slightly less crowded. He knew that no one was staring at his arm because he remembered to cloak it before leaving the bed and breakfast. Still, he could understand that people might be curious about a stranger in their midst.

All of a sudden, Bucky felt a hand on his back and as he turned around, he saw a tall, slender Creole girl with wavy, neck-length brown hair and hazel eyes. She wore blue shorts and a black t-shirt with the words ‘New Orleans Saints’ on it in gold lettering.

“Do you know Remy?” she asked.

“Yeah, he’s my part–,” Bucky began. “He’s my friend,” he finished.

“Well, a friend of Remy’s is a friend of mine! I’m Suzette. Who might you be?” she asked extending her hand.

“I’m James. Pleased to meet you, Suzette,” Bucky said shaking her hand.

“How do you and Remy know each other, James” she asked with her gaze never straying from his eyes. She was captivated by the little yellow flecks in his dark blue irises.

“We’re doing a bit of work together,” Bucky said vaguely not letting go of her hand.

“Ah...,” she said as she nodded. “So, you must know Celeste?” Suzette assumed that with that kind of vagueness, perhaps the two men were working for Remy’s friend Madame Celeste, who ran a brothel not far from there.

Bucky looked confused but did not respond.

Noting his long black hair, big blue eyes, and muscular build, Suzette said, “James, you must have them lined up around the block.”

“What?” he asked.

Realizing that she might have the wrong idea, Suzette said, “Well, since you won’t let go of my hand, how about you come dance with me?”

“Oh, I’m not here to dance,” Bucky explained. “I’m just here briefly with Remy...wherever he is,” he said looking around but still holding the lovely girl’s hand.

Suzette laughed. “What’s wrong – you don’t dance, James?”

He loved the way she said his name. It sounded more like ‘Shams’ than ‘James’ and now that he thought about it, that’s the way Remy pronounced it the few times that he called him by his first name.

“Actually, I love to dance. I just haven’t done it in a long time,” he confessed.

“Well, today is your lucky day, monsieur,” Suzette announced as she turned, still holding his hand, and led him outside. On the dance floor, she said, “We’ll start slow with the Cajun jig and if you pick up on dat, we’ll try the Cajun Jitterbug.”

“Oh! I was the king of the Jitterbug in the 40s!” Bucky proudly informed her.

 _“What?”_ she asked swearing that he said ‘the 40s.’

“Ah...Nothing!” Bucky said as he swung her out and back again.

After a few moments, Suzette proclaimed, “James, you’re a natural!”

“Thank you,” he said blushing. Looking over toward the house, he saw Remy walk onto the front porch and wave to him.

“Suzette, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I need to talk to Remy,” he said.

“Well, if you have time before you leave, you come on back. I’ll save a dance for you,” she promised.

Bucky laughed and said, “You’re making this hard on me, you know. I’ll try.” He stepped away from her slowly but could not bring himself to release her hand. He’d only been holding it for ten minutes, but already he could not bear to let go. Finally, he did and immediately felt sad. Without looking back, he walked up the porch steps and met Remy.

“I know dat look,” the romantic Cajun said. “It’s the look of a man who is falling.”

“I’m not falling in love with her. She’s just a nice girl...that’s all,” Bucky said not admitting how much he already liked her.

“Hmm...Well, mon ami, if you say so,” replied Remy. “Just remember dat it doesn’t hurt to live a little, yeah? Now, come over and meet my cousin, Lapin.”

Sitting in a chair on the front porch was a young man with shoulder-length, medium brown hair. He was of average height and build, and was wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt. A few other men were sitting next to him chatting and drinking beer.

The man stood as Remy approached. “James, this is my cousin, Lapin.” Looking at his cousin, he said, “Lapin, c’est mon ami, James.”

Lapin extended his hand to shake Bucky’s, and the two nodded at one another.

“Lapin is going to take us to meet someone,” advised Remy as his cousin led the way into the house.

Bucky followed the cousins to a room which had a rather large Cajun standing guard outside of it. Entering the room, Bucky saw that it appeared to be a home office. Lapin sat in a desk chair  and across from him sat another young man who was conspicuously dressed in dark sunglasses, a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, a black t-shirt, and a denim jacket with the collar standing up so as to hide as much of his face as possible.

Pointing to the man in the sunglasses and jacket, Remy said, “This gentleman wishes to remain nameless, but he has some useful information for us. Go ahead. Spill it!” Remy encouraged the man.

“A while back, I infiltrated the Antiquary’s operations,” he began.

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“I had a client who wanted me to retrieve something that the Antiquary stole from him – a diamond of several carats. It took me months, but I managed to work my way into his group of henchmen and locate the diamond. All I needed to do was steal it and find a quick way out of his compound,” the man said.

“Were you successful?” asked Bucky.

“No, and now the Antiquary and my former client are out to get me,” said the man as he fidgeted in his chair.

“Why?”  Bucky pressed.

“Because I blew my cover with the henchmen, and my former client paid me half my fee up front,” he said.

Lapin let out a long, slow whistle realizing just how deep in trouble the man was.

“Who were you working for?” questioned Bucky.

“I’m not saying,” the man replied.

“So, what _can_ you tell us?” Bucky asked losing his patience.

“I can tell you that whatever you might be looking for is probably hidden below the house. While I was there, I began to see operatives coming and going using an elevator in the east wing of the mansion. Once, I saw some men enter it, so I hid nearby. After the doors shut, I put my ear to them and could hear that the lift went down instead of up. A few days later, I heard two men talking. One said that the Antiquary has a lab which he built under the house. If what you’re trying to get is of any value, it’s probably down there.”

“So, you never went down to this lab yourself?” asked Remy.

“Nope,” replied the man.

“Why not?” Bucky pressed.

“Because the elevator has a keypad that requires an access code, and I wasn’t privy to the code,” the man said.

“What else?” asked Remy.

“The security system malfunctioned and shut down once while I was there. There’s a backup generator, but it takes five minutes to become fully functional,” the man said.

For a few moments, the room was silent except for the faint sound of the music from outside. Finally, Bucky had one more question.

“Can you draw a map of the ground floor indicating where the elevator is located?” Bucky asked.

“What’s in it for me?” asked the man.

“We let you walk out of here alive,” replied Remy.

“And if I don’t draw the map?” the man asked.

“If you don’t, you’ll have to deal with me and the rest of the Thieves Guild, mon ami,” Remy threatened with his long auburn bangs covering the left side of his face.

The man let out a long sigh as he reached for the pen and note pad that Lapin placed on the desk. The three men watched as he drew the map and when he was finished, he handed it to Remy. He and Bucky looked at it to make sure they understood it before they let the man leave.

“If you’re wrong, you know what will happen, yeah?” Remy asked.

The man looked at Bucky who gave him a blood chilling stare. He swallowed hard and thought, ‘To hell with the Thieves Guild; I’m more afraid of that guy!’

“Okay. You can go,” said Remy. Looking at Lapin, he added, “Take him out the back.”

Hoping that was not code for ‘kill him,’ the man stood and walked out with Remy’s cousin.

When the two men were out of earshot, Bucky asked, “Why did he give us this information?”

“Because the Thieves Guild promised him safe passage out of the state in exchange for any intel on the Antiquary. We just got lucky dat he decided to spill the beans when you and I accepted this mission.”

“So, who else knows about this mission besides you, me, Fury, Lapin, and _that_ guy?” asked Bucky.”

“Dat guy knows nothing about it and even if he did, he knows he’s surely a dead man if he talks,” assured Remy.

The two men stood in silence for a few moments.

“So, what do you think, Barnes?” Remy asked as he sat on the desk.

Bucky replied, “I think if this map and his intel are correct, there’s a chance we might have to shut down at least two systems – the main security system and the electrical system for the elevator and/or the basement lab. Chances are they run on separate systems for extra protection.”

Remy quietly mulled the situation.                                                                                            

After a moment of thought, Bucky added, “My cybernetic arm emits electromagnetic pulses. I can hit the main system with an EMP and shut it down. That’ll give us five minutes to get to the elevator, find the lab and the nanobots, and get the hell out of there before the backup generator becomes fully functional.”

“Yeah, but dat’s only if we don’t encounter any operatives and there’s no sensors in the lab. Dat would cost us time,” Remy said putting both hands over his face.

Looking at the map again, Bucky made an observation. “That guy drew the location of the interior security room. If we can manage to get inside the mansion without first shutting down the security system, I can do that once we’re in, and it would buy us some time.”

“But what if that shuts down the power to the elevator as well?” worried Remy.

“Then, we’ll just have to hotwire it and improvise,” Bucky suggested with a shrug.

“Yeah, your file says you’re notorious for improvising, but dat’s the best plan we’ve got,” Remy replied. “Let’s get out of here and get our gear together. What time do we leave?”

“At 0300 hours,” said Bucky.

“Awk! Why so early, Sergeant?” Remy lamented.

“Because it’s the dead of night, and in a town where people don’t seem to do much sleeping, I figure there’d be fewer people that might see us coming and going.”

After a moment, Remy confessed, “If I get the chance, I’m going after the Antiquary.”

“The hell you are!” Bucky yelled. “That is NOT our mission,” he said quieter but through clinched teeth.

“You more than anyone else understands what it’s like to have a puppet master pulling your strings. How can you deny me my revenge?” Remy asked as his eyes began to tear behind his dark glasses.

Bucky pleaded with him. “That’s _precisely_   how – because I know what it’s like to live a life consumed by revenge. It eats you up inside bit by bit and does you no good. It took me years to learn that. I’m not saying that I don’t still feel like evening a score now and then, but you can’t give in to it. You need to focus on redemption and let fate handle the Antiquary.”  

After considering Remy’s advice for a few moments, Remy asked, “Are you always right, James?”

“Quite often, yes,” admitted Bucky.

Sliding off of the desk, Remy sighed, “Well, let’s say our ‘good-byes’ and get to work.”

“Do I have time for one more dance with Suzette?” Bucky asked hopefully.

“Sergeant, you better take a raincheck because there’s a nap in my future, and I’m your ride,” Remy advised him.

Bucky sighed and said, “Okay. Let’s go then,” and walked out into the hallway.

As Remy found Lapin and thanked him for his help and hospitality, Bucky found Suzette in the crowd and apologized for leaving.

“Maybe I’ll see you again before I leave New Orleans,” he said.

“I hope so,” replied Suzette not revealing how sad she was that he was leaving so soon.

Before turning and walking toward the car, Bucky took her right hand in his and kissed its palm tenderly.

Suzette watched as Bucky and Remy walked across the yard, and she waved as Crimson Voodoo pulled away from the curb and drove down the street.

In the side mirror, Bucky watched her grow smaller in the distance and though she could not see him do it, he waved at her reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fais Do-Do = Cajun dance party  
> “Descendre de lui, vous mauvais chat!” = “Get off of him, you bad cat!”  
> “De rien!” = “You’re welcome!”  
> Beignet = Cajun donut  
> “Garçons, être bon!” = “Boys, be good!”  
> “Mon frère” = “My brother”  
> “Venez danser avec moi!” = “Come dance with me!”  
> “Restez ici, mon amour! Je reviendrai.” = “Stay here, my love! I will come back.”  
> “C’est mon ami” = “This is my friend”


	5. Un Plan Simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes to Sébastien’s aid. Bucky and Remy breach the Antiquary’s compound to retrieve the nanobots.

On their way back to Remy’s house, Remy decided that he did not feel like cooking considering the night they had ahead of them.

“I’m gonna drop you off at the house and run to the deli to get us some muffaletta sandwiches, yeah?” Remy said.

“Okay,” Bucky replied cautiously. “I don’t know what that is, but that’s fine with me.”

Driving up to the curb, Remy handed Bucky his house keys and said, “I’ll be back soon.”

Bucky let himself into the house through the front door. He opened a few windows to let in some air but remembered to leave the curtains almost completely drawn shut so Remy would feel comfortable removing his dark glasses when he came home.

Turning toward the kitchen, Bucky saw tiny red paw prints on the floor. Going in for a closer look, he noticed a broken glass near the sink and then heard baleful mewing coming from under the table. Squatting, he saw little Sébastien sitting against the wall with his left paw bleeding.

Bucky sighed and asked, “Sébastien! What have you done now?”

Standing, he walked to the sink and picked up the pieces of broken glass making sure to use a wet paper towel to wipe up any smaller shards. He tossed the debris into the trash can and returned to the cat’s hiding place.

As Bucky slowly extended his right hand to pick up the cat, Sébastien hissed at him and took a swipe at his hand.

“Ouch!” Bucky yelped. “You know, I can’t help you if you won’t let me,” he advised. “Oh, yeah. I forgot...you only speak French,” he said laughing to himself. “I’m fluent in seven languages, but you picked one that I’m shaky at. My French is limited so if you want help, you’re going to have to learn English, my mischievous friend. What’s that – ‘mon ami espiègle?’”

As if he understood, Sébastien decided to stop putting up a fight and allowed Bucky to scoop him up and place him on the kitchen table.

“It doesn’t look too bad. Let me get something for that,” he said.

Bucky went to both the master and guest bathrooms but could not find anything suitable in the medicine cabinets to treat or dress the cat’s wound. Then, he remembered seeing a small ‘mom and pop’ drug store around the corner. He decided to run over and buy first aid items.

“If I put you back down, will you stay there until I get back? Serez-vous comportez?” Bucky asked the skittish cat who looked at him curiously as he spoke. “I guess we don’t have a choice, do we?” he said putting Sébastien back onto the floor.

Bucky wet a paper towel and placed it under the cat’s paw. “Stay!” he said before turning to leave.

Running as fast as he could, Bucky burst into the drug store and darted down the aisles until he found the first aid section. He grabbed a pack of gauze, a tube of antiseptic ointment, and a spool of bandage tape. As he sprinted toward the cash register, he saw something that caught his eye: fabric tape. He grabbed a spool of that as well and ran to the register where the elderly proprietor looked oddly at the young man with the long hair.

“Sorry! I’m kind of in a hurry,” he apologized with only his left eye visible through his black mane.

The man said nothing as he rang up the purchases, bagged them, and gave Bucky his change.

“Thanks!” he yelled as he threw open the door and dashed across the street.

Returning to Remy’s house, Bucky found Sébastien right where he left him. He scooped up the feline again and took him to the sink. There, he used mild soap to clean the wound and dry it with a paper towel. Then, he placed the cat back on the table. He was happy that for some reason, Sébastien was behaving himself and allowing him to squeeze the ointment onto the cut.

Bucky folded a piece of gauze and applied it to the paw of the normally rambunctious feline who lay very still. He then wrapped another piece around it to form a little sock and applied bandage tape around the top to hold it in place being careful not to get tape on Sébastien’s fur.

“There you go, man,” Bucky cooed. “Hey, look...I have an owie, too!” he said pointing to his left arm. He pressed the button on the back of his neck where it met his shoulder and as the illusion of flesh was gradually replaced by metal, he said, “See! That’s _my_ owie.”

To thank him, Sébastien licked Bucky’s biological right hand and in return, he scratched the kitten’s head.

Remembering the fabric tape, Bucky pulled it out of the bag.

“Come with me,” he said as he picked up Sébastien and went to Remy’s bedroom. He placed the kitten on the bed and retrieved a pair of scissors from the bathroom’s medicine cabinet. There, he unrolled and cut from the spool three strips of fabric tape 12 inches long. Sticking them to the low-boy, he took an ink pen from a nearby pencil cup and started writing words on them about half an inch apart. When he finished, the strips read ‘blue  red  green  black  brown’ over and over. Using the scissors, he cut the strips into smaller pieces and taped the words inside the corresponding colors of Remy’s clothing. For a plaid shirt, he taped the two dominant colors. Bucky continued doing this until he labeled each article of clothing in the closet and drawers. He worked quickly and was finished in no time.

Picking up Sébastien, Bucky returned to the kitchen where he placed the cat on the floor. He first wiped down the table with a soapy cloth. Then, he began to clean up the bloody paw prints on the floor as the cat sat under the table and watched him.

Just as he finished the cleanup, Bucky heard Crimson Voodoo driving up to the garage. He washed his hands and opened the back door for Remy.

“Sorry dat took so long!” Remy apologized. “I ran into my neighbor Margarite at the deli, and man, can dat girl talk!” he said as he placed on the counter a white plastic bag containing the sandwiches.

“Oh, no worries at all,” Bucky said with a shrug.

“Just let me feed the cats, and we can eat,” he replied.

Remy removed a bag of dry cat food from a cabinet and shook some into their bowl. Olivier and François ran to it as if they were starving, but Sébastien slowly limped over to eat.

With his mouth agape, Remy stared at the injured cat for a moment and then looked at Bucky.

“Juste ciel! What happened here?” the Cajun demanded.

“He must have somehow gotten up on the counter and broken a glass,” Bucky confessed. “I cleaned it up and dressed his wound. It doesn’t look too bad. He should be okay.”

Remy looked in the trash can and saw the bloody mess. “Thank you for dat, James. I know you and Sébastien don’t see eye-to-eye, so dat was very nice of you to care for him like dat.”

“Oh, we’re friends now,” Bucky smiled proudly. “We both have owies,” he said lifting his cybernetic arm.

The two men laughed.

“Let’s eat so we can start getting ready,” Remy suggested.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Later that evening, the assassin and the thief started packing for their mission. They planned to leave at 0300 hours, so they methodically assembled what they needed. Each had a black utility belt with various snapping pockets and holsters in which to place the tools of their respective trades, so they set about preparing.

Bucky’s belt featured horizontal sheaths for various knives which he carefully slid into place as Sébastien sat on the bed watching his every move. Each blade was clean and free of any marks while their handles bore a coating on which fingerprints could not be detected.

This mission was meant to be a stealth operation. ‘Get in. Get out,’ were Nick’s instructions. However, the assassin’s military training taught him to always expect the unexpected, so he inserted two small grenades into straps on his utility belt just in case they became necessary.

Lined with Kevlar, Bucky’s fire-resistant togs offered him maximum protection. They were not additionally infused with vibranium as his Captain America suit was, but the Kevlar was enough to stop bullets. A shot would hurt, but it would not kill him.

After buttoning each flap on his tunic, Bucky fastened the belt around his waist and felt the weight of its arsenal. He buckled his leather shoulder holster around his muscular chest and attached two Smith & Wesson M&P15-22P semi-automatic pistols to the magnetized plate on his back. Adding silencers to two Russian 1911A1 .45 automatics, he slid them into holsters and then placed into his belt’s pockets a few spare stainless steel magazines with hallow-point ammo.

Walking into the bathroom, Bucky used his right hand to apply black greasepaint around his eyes, which made their blue irises look all the more vibrant. He washed his hands and returned to the bedroom.

Looking down, he reached for his gloves only to find that Sébastien was sitting on one mewing up at him.

“No, you can’t come with me,” Bucky cooed. “I have a job to do. I’ll see you when I get back. Promise!” he said as he scratched the kitten’s head. Lifting him with his right hand, the assassin slid the glove from under the black cat and picked up its mate.

As Bucky guided his hands into the gloves, he silently read through a checklist in his head to ensure that he did not forget anything. He felt that he packed enough ammo but also knew that regardless of what was in his utility belt, his deadliest weapon was his left arm. He had upgraded the capacitors of its EMP generator to double the output. It would not require much of a charge to fry the circuits of the Antiquary’s security system. He was confident that he could get Remy into the compound, but the rest was up to the thief.

Downstairs, Remy was making similar preparations for the mission. He folded a small drawstring satchel in which to carry the retrieved silver case containing the nanobots. He carefully placed the bag into one of the belt’s pockets.

Laying the belt on his low-boy, Remy began to fill its compartments. In one, he slipped a deck of playing cards and in two others, he placed a few Ninja throwing stars. Next to the belt, he placed a pair of Eskrima batons and a retractable bo staff. He slid these into holsters and strapped them to his thighs. 

From a drawer, Remy produced a small, black backpack in which he placed a set of two compact night vision goggles. Next, he inserted a little padded metal box which contained the components of a tiny explosive in the event that he might need it to open a safe. He hoped it would only be required as a last resort because assembling it would eat away at their narrow time frame.

Opening his closet doors, Remy shifted a few clothes on hangers so he could reach the closet’s rear. He pulled out his togs which were almost identical to Bucky’s. His were also black and lined with Kevlar; however, while Bucky’s tunic buttoned down the right side, Remy’s zipped up the front. He dressed and then sat on his bed to slip his feet into combat boots which, like his partner’s, made no noise on the floor as he walked.

Remy stood and walked back to the closet to close its doors and in doing so noticed a tag inside one of his jackets. Taking a closer look, he saw that it read ‘brown.’

‘How did dat get there?’ he wondered.

Shifting hangers on the rod, he saw that every article of clothing had a tag which identified its color. A smile slowly stretched across his face as he realized what the assassin had done.

After closing the closet doors, Remy strapped on his belt and backpack. Leaving his bedroom, he entered the kitchen where he poured water into a bowl for the cats. As Bucky descended the stairs and met Remy in the living room, the thief threw his arms around the assassin and gave him a firm hug.

“Thank you, James! Dat’s the nicest thing anyone done for me!” said the Cajun.

Bucky’s expressionless stare told him that his partner had no idea what he was talking about.

“The clothing tags, mon ami,” Remy reminded him.

“Oh, _that!”_ Bucky said remembering. “It was my pleasure.”

“Now, I know how to dress right,” he crowed. “No more mixing colors for me!”

Smiling, Bucky handed Remy a wristband GPS tracker and a communications earpiece.

“We’ll have tracking on each other, and Fury reserved a secure comm line for us,” advised the assassin. Inserting the comm device into his right ear, he asked, “Secure line 6?” to ensure that Remy could hear him through his.

“Line 6 secure,” Remy responded after inserting his earpiece.

Switching to codenames, Bucky barked, “Initiate tracking devices. Winter Soldier to Gambit, move out!”

“Copy dat,” agreed Gambit.

Exiting through the back door, Winter Soldier advised, “Just keep your wits about you, stay focused, and everything should go as planned.”

Gambit looked at Winter Soldier but did not respond.

*  *  *  *  *  *

The two men opened the garage doors and stood facing the Harley-Davidson motorcycles parked next to Gambit’s beloved GTO, Crimson Voodoo.

Looking at the silver bike, Gambit advised, “Dat’s a 2003 Harley VRSCA V-Rod.” Looking at the black one, he said, “Dat’s a 2005 Harley Sportster.”

Pointing to a switch on the right handle bar of the V-Rod, he continued, “Each bike is equipped with a silencer on the engine and muffler, so no one will hear us coming. Choisissez votre poison, soldat.”

The soldier smiled broadly and replied, “Well, it’s not my Winnifred, but I’ll take the V-Rod if it’s all the same to you.”

Gambit returned the smile and said, “Let’s ride.”

The two went to their respective motorcycles, raised the kickstands, and walked the bikes into the alley behind Gambit’s house. Winter Soldier waited for Gambit to lock the garage door, and then both men switched on the silencers and started the bikes’ engines. The assassin let the thief take the lead as they quietly disappeared into the slightly foggy night.

*  *  *  *  *  *

As planned, the two black-clad men approached a cemetery on the eastern side of the Antiquary’s compound. Riding down a narrow aisle, they killed the engines of their bikes and walked them to a family crypt where they hid them in the shadows.

Silently, they crossed the empty street and crept to the front gates of the compound being careful to hide behind the tall brick posts which supported the iron bars that surrounded the entire property.

Hiding behind one of the posts, the pair put on their night vision goggles. Winter Soldier quickly glanced over his right shoulder then looked at Gambit.

“One guard on the roof. Two on the left and one on the right,” the soldier advised.

“How you know dat?” Gambit whispered. “You look over your shoulder for three seconds, and you got the whole lay of the land?”

“Trust me,” Winter Soldier replied. “I was doing this before your father Jean-Luc was born.”

Smiling wryly, Gambit replied, "Yeah...dat's what _you_ think."

The assassin slid a knife from its sheath on his lower back. Standing, he held it in front of himself shoulder high in his cybernetic hand. As he bent his knees slightly, Winter Soldier slowly raised his hand above his head.

Gambit could hear the arm ramping up as it measured the weight of the dagger and the distance to the man on the roof across the expanse of the huge front lawn.

In the blink of an eye, Winter Soldier threw the knife which struck the rooftop guard square in his larynx. Unable to breathe or scream, the man fell to his knees and then disappeared from sight.

Turning to Gambit, Winter Soldier whispered, “Close your mouth.”

Gambit did not realize that it was agape. He was mesmerized to see the arm in action after hearing the soldier outline everything that it could do. Both men had speed and agility which surpassed that of Olympic athletes, but the Cajun had never seen anything like the arm before.

Winter Soldier removed a Smith & Wesson .45 from his back plate and shot the guards on either side of the house before they could raise their weapons.

With the guards down, he turned to the nearest set of iron bars. Using his bionic arm, he pulled one bar until it bent wide enough for him to squeeze through. He turned to speak to Gambit, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Winter Soldier to Gambit. Do you copy?” the soldier asked urgently.

“I copy, chère,” replied the thief standing in front of him under a large tree on the lawn.

“How did you get in there?” the soldier demanded.

“What? You think you the only one dat’s got skills?” the Cajun joked. “I scaled the fence, mon ami.”

Slipping through the bars and joining Gambit at the tree, Winter Soldier warned, “You need to stay with me until we get inside. You hear?”

“Yes!” Gambit said a little annoyed.

Not seeing any other guards along the east side of the mansion, Winter Soldier motioned that he wanted Gambit to follow him.

“We’ll enter through the rear. Stay in my hip pocket and don’t stray,” he advised.

“Copy dat,” the thief replied.

As they reached the back of the house, the partners could hear men talking. With their backs pressed against the wall, they waited until the conversation ended. This indicated that the men had either gone inside or had separated.

Winter Soldier slowly peeked around the corner of the house and saw only one guard standing near the back door. As the assassin carefully weighed the pros and cons of shooting him where he stood, the guard turned and walked toward the back door. Seizing the opportunity, Winter Soldier again motioned for Gambit to follow him. The guard tapped a code into the keypad by the rear door. It buzzed and as soon as the man opened the door, Winter Soldier shot him through the heart. Before the guard hit the ground, the soldier ran over and caught him and dragged his body into nearby bushes.

Waiting for Winter Soldier to enter first, Gambit removed his night vision goggles and replaced them with mirrored sunglasses. While most people’s sight would be further hindered by the dark glasses, his was unfazed as his eyes were light sensitive anyway. The glasses served the dual purpose of hiding his eyes from any guards who could identify him to the Antiquary.

Before entering the house, the soldier removed his goggles and stepped into a dimly lit hallway with dark wood paneling on its walls. As they proceeded, Gambit pulled the Eskrima batons from his thigh holster in case they encountered more guards further ahead.

The rear of the house was quiet and empty but as they reached the foyer, they were suddenly surrounded by guards.

“Who are you?” barked one of the guards. “Who sent you?” he demanded.

Without responding, Winter Soldier and Gambit stood back-to-back, slightly bent their knees, and prepared to be attacked.

One of the guards lunged at Gambit, who swatted him in the throat with one of his batons and proceeded to beat the man like a drum.

Winter Soldier kicked one guard in the chest which knocked the wind out of him and sent him sprawling. As another took his place, the assassin kicked the second guard in the knee breaking it, and then punched him in the face with his cybernetic fist. The other guards cringed at the sound of his cheekbone shattering. Yet another guard attacked, and Winter Soldier doubled him over with a punch to the solar plexus. Before the man could recover, the assassin grabbed his ears and slammed his forehead into his raised knee.

Another guard pulled out a metal baton and broke one of Gambit’s Eskrimas in two. The Cajun dropped it, and punched the guard in the face. As the man hit the wall behind him, Gambit pulled his bo staff from its holster and pressed a button to extend it. Swinging it left then right in a downward motion, he knocked two more guards out cold when the bo staff connected with the sides of their heads.

As he retracted his staff, he saw the elevator doors at the far wall. He turned to see that Winter Soldier had disabled the other attacking guards and reached the security console inside a small office next to the front door.

As they heard the hurried footsteps of more guards coming, the assassin placed his left hand over the circuit board. His palm emitted an electromagnetic pulse which fried the console and killed the power to the entire compound.

“Go!” the soldier urged Gambit. _“GO!”_

Gambit sprinted to the elevator and pulled a playing card from one of his belt pockets. He gave it a small charge of kinetic energy, and the red irises of his eyes glowed as they always did when he used his mutant powers. He slid the card into the space between one of the buttons and the faceplate and took a step backward. The charge hotwired the keypad and the elevator doors opened. Stepping in, he pressed the down button and as the doors closed, he watched as three more guards advanced on Winter Soldier.

Remembering that the backup generator would be online in five minutes, Gambit knew he had to work fast.

The assassin made short order of knocking out the first of the three guards. However, the second was a bit more of a challenge. He was taller and larger than Winter Soldier and had a punch that was like the kick of a mule. His huge right fist connected with the left side of the assassin’s jaw knocking him back a few steps and drawing blood.

Dodging a left hook, the assassin aimed a Russian .45at the guard’s right knee and pulled the trigger. When the guard yelped and fell to his other knee, Winter Soldier kicked him in the face knocking him out cold.

Turning to his right, he saw the third guard frozen where he stood with his eyes as big as saucers and his mouth agape. Glancing down in the dim light, the assassin saw a small stain starting to grow on the man’s crotch. Meeting the guard’s gaze, he gave him a merciless stare.

“Winter Soldier!” the man whispered as his face turned white and his hands twitched.

As the assassin took one step toward the guard, the man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

Winter Soldier stood in the foyer looking down at the bodies that lay around him.

‘Come on, kid!’ he said to himself and braced for another possible attack as he waited for Gambit to return.

As the elevator door opened, Gambit quickly looked around the lab. The light was dim but still brighter than it was on the main floor of the mansion. He took one step forward and was immediately surprised by a guard to his right.

“Hands up!” the guard yelled as he aimed the barrel of a rifle at the thief’s head.

Slowly raising his hands, Gambit kept his eyes forward. In his right hand, he had palmed a card which, unbeknownst to the guard, he started charging. As he flicked the card, it exploded in the man’s face rendering him unconscious.

A few yards in front of the thief stood a man in a white lab coat. Before Gambit even spoke to him, he threw up his hands and stepped away from the microscope into which he had been looking.

“What do you want?” the man asked.

“The nanobots. Hand them over, and you won’t get hurt,” the thief urged.

“Like I would just hand them to you?” the man asked sarcastically.

“Well, we could do it the easy way, but you seem to want it the hard way,” the Cajun said as he started to worry about the amount of time he had left before the backup generator kicked in.

Approaching the man, Gambit picked up a scalpel from the lab table and gave it a small charge. It only took a few seconds for it to heat up as he held it to the man’s throat.

As the heat became unbearable and the man began to squirm, he confessed, “They’re in there!” pointing to a small silver box on an adjacent table.

Pushing the man over to it, Gambit barked, “Open it.”

Opening the case, the man could smell the skin on his neck burning, and he began to moan softly.

Using his other hand, Gambit lifted one of the vials that were surrounded by foam inside the silver box. Assured that the nanobots were in the vial, he released the man and ran to the elevator.

Wincing in pain, the man held his hand to the second degree burn on his neck as he watched the thief sprint away.

Before the door closed, Gambit slid the kinetically charged scalpel across the floor toward the man and placed the silver box into the satchel which he removed from his utility belt. He heard a muffled explosion as the elevator rose to the ground floor.

When the door opened, Winter Soldier was waiting for the thief.

Gambit tossed the satchel to him and once again allowed the assassin to take the lead.

“Hurry! We’re almost out of time,” said Winter Soldier as he turned and jogged down the hallway through which they entered.

When he reached the back door, he looked over his shoulder and realized that Gambit was not behind him.

“Winter Soldier to Gambit – do you copy?” he said into his comm earpiece. “Repeat: Winter Soldier to Gambit – DO YOU COPY?”

Assuming where his partner went, the assassin became angry. He looked down at his GPS tracker and could see that the thief was heading up the stairs.

“Damn it, kid!” he sneered as he ran back to the foyer and took the stairs two at a time.

He spotted Gambit on the landing and grabbed him by the back of his togs before he could open the door in front of them.

“What did I tell you about this mission? What did I say about revenge?” the assassin demanded as he turned the thief to face him.

“This could be my only chance. You can’t deny me my revenge!” Gambit pleaded with his partner.

“We’re out of time. Let’s _GO!”_ spat the assassin.

Before Winter Soldier had time to react, Gambit punched him in the face.

The assassin flinched but did not release his grip on his partner. Giving him that merciless glare, he quickly punched the young Cajun in the stomach using his bionic hand which knocked the wind out of him.

Winter Soldier threw Gambit over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and sprinted down the stairs as fast as he could. Just as he slipped out the rear door, the backup generator returned power to the security system. The alarm was reactivated and the lights inside the compound came back on flooding the mansion with light.

Returning to the crypt where they hid their bikes, Winter Soldier set Gambit down on his feet.

The thief pressed his back against the wall of the crypt as he gasped for air. Then, bending forward to rest his hands on his knees, he suddenly noticed subtle movement all around himself and his partner.

Winter Soldier stood casually as dark figures approached them. One man stepped forward as his companions leveled automatic rifles at the pair.

Greeting them cordially, he said, “Winter Soldier. Gambit. I’m Agent Coulson of SHIELD. I believe you have a delivery for me.”

As the assassin handed the satchel containing the nanobots over to Coulson, he and the thief heard a voice in their comm earpieces.

“Gentlemen, you’ve both done a commendable job, and SHIELD thanks you for your service. Now, it’s time for you to head out of there before the Antiquary’s men find you. Fury out.”

“Copy that,” said Winter Soldier.

“If you need anything, soldier, you know where to find us,” Coulson said as he and his team turned to leave in their black vans.

Gambit was seething with anger. He walked his bike back to the narrow cemetery aisle and sat down hard on it. He said nothing as he started its engine with the silencer still engaged.

Winter Soldier followed his partner and as they turned down a side street, he looked over his shoulder to see the first of the surviving guards run out the back of the compound in search of the intruders.

Returning to Remy’s house, the thief opened the garage door so the partners could park the bikes. Still in a rage, he could not look Bucky in the eye.

As they walked through the back door, Remy’s temper finally boiled over.

Facing off in the living room, the Cajun yelled, “How could you, James? It was bad enough you denied me my revenge. Then, you didn’t trust me, so you called in SHIELD!”

“SHIELD was the plan all along,” Bucky confessed calmly. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you; we just needed to do the hand-off of the nanobots as quickly as possible. So, instead of us going to SHIELD, SHIELD came to us.”

“So, if you trusted me, why was Fury on our ‘secure’ comm line? Was he on the whole time?” demanded Remy.

After a short pause, Bucky sighed and admitted, “Yes…It’s because he’s a control freak. He just wanted to ensure that the mission went without a hitch.”

“And what about all those SHIELD agents – the ones pointing the guns at us?”

“They were there simply as backup in case something went wrong. I told Fury they wouldn’t be necessary but as I said, he’s a control freak,” Bucky advised.

Remy sighed and stared down at the carpet as if the answers he was looking for were there.

Acknowledging that his partner’s feelings were hurt, Bucky offered, “I’m sorry that you feel I betrayed your trust. I’ll get my things and leave you alone...”

Unzipping his togs, Remy turned and walked toward his bedroom. “I’m tired, James. Go get some sleep before the sun comes up.”

Bucky watched the thief enter his bedroom and close the French doors behind him. As he ascended the stairs, be began to unbutton his own togs.

Dropping his tunic on the bedroom floor, Bucky approached the bathroom mirror wearing only his pants and boots. He stared at himself wondering if he did the right thing by stopping Remy from entering the Antiquary’s chambers.

‘I can surely relate to his anger and the need for closure, but should I have stopped him?’ the assassin wondered.

Deciding that he was too tired to think anymore, Bucky cleaned the greasepaint from around his eyes and then wiped his face. He returned to the bedroom and removed his boots and socks. Unzipping his pants, he slid out of them and left them on the floor next to his tunic.

As Bucky sat on the bed, he noticed that Sébastien was curled up asleep on his pillow.

“Aw...Well, at least _you_ still like me,” he cooed.

The assassin pulled the covers back and crawled into bed resting his head on the pillow next to the slumbering feline. Within seconds, he was asleep as well.

*  *  *  *  *  *

At 10:00, Bucky was awakened by Sébastien who was licking his face.

“Oh, did I oversleep? Thanks for wake-up call, pal,” he said as he sat up and stretched. Pushing his long hair out of his face, he stood and walked to the bathroom.

After a hot shower, Bucky brushed his teeth and dressed as Sébastien watched him from his perch on the bed. Scooping up the cat, the assassin descended the stairs wondering what kind of mood to expect from Remy.

Bucky entered the kitchen and put Sébastien down so he could join Olivier and François at their breakfast bowl.

“Good morning,” Bucky said to Remy cautiously.

“Good morning, James,” replied the thief as he moved scrambled eggs around in a skillet. He did not turn around to make eye contact.

The coffee was brewed and the table was set, so Bucky sat down and waited for Remy to speak.

Turning to him, the Cajun looked calmer than he did six hours ago.

“Look, James. I’m sorry about earlier. I know why you did what you did, and I understand it was all for the best. I just let my emotions take hold of me,” he said.

“No worries,” Bucky said quietly.

“Thank you for stopping me from doing something stupid,” added Remy. 

“You’re welcome. I...” Bucky decided to stop before he admitted that if he were in the thief’s position, he probably would have tried to take revenge, too. “Let’s put it behind us,” he suggested.

“Agreed,” said Remy as he pushed the scrambled eggs onto Bucky’s plate with a spatula and then spooned on chopped fresh fruit. He poured each of them a piping hot cup of coffee and placed a basket of warm croissants on the table before sitting down to join the assassin.

“You’re gonna make someone a wonderful wife, my friend,” Bucky laughed.

Smiling, Remy replied, “You know, I spoil dem kids at the school, yeah. They love it when ‘Uncle Remy’ cooks for dem.”

Looking at his host’s light blue t-shirt and faded jeans, Bucky said, “Nice match.”

Both men laughed and then ate for a while in silence.

Finally, the soldier asked, “What’s on for today?”

“I figured I’d make you a playlist of some of dem Zydeco songs you been taping your fingers and feet to.”

“That’d be great!” replied Bucky. After a pause, he continued, “Later, I thought I’d head over to Bar Lafayette and see what’s up.”

Smiling broadly, Remy chirped, “I like the way you think, James!”

Standing, Bucky picked up their plates and put them in the sink. As he started to wash them, Remy went into the living room, placed his laptop on the coffee table, and sat on the floor in front of it.

“You know, me and Blade are close friends, yeah,” the thief admitted.

“Blade? The vampire hunter?” asked Bucky from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” said the Cajun. “Me and Eric got a lot in common. We make playlists for each other. I schooled him on Zydeco, and he schooled me on Jazz. I’ll give you one of the playlists I made for him.”

“Thanks, man,” said Bucky.

“My pleasure,” Remy replied. “Dat’s what friends are for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Un Plan Simple” = “A Simple Plan”  
> “Serez-vous comportez?” = “Will you behave?”  
> “Juste ciel!” = “Good heavens!”  
> Choisissez votre poison, soldat.” = “Pick your poison, soldier.”


	6. Un Affaire Inachevé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky does Remy a favor.

Bucky flew out the back door of Bar Lafayette hitting the brick wall on the other side of the alley with a hard thud. A heavyset, bald bouncer named Maurice yelled at him, “If you ever come in here again, Yankee, you’ll leave with two broken legs!”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Bucky snapped breathlessly. Maurice stared at him for a moment wondering if he should hit him again for getting sassy. He decided that he made his point and turned to walk back inside the bar slamming the door behind him.

Thinking he was in the dark alley alone, Bucky was startled to hear a voice coming from a darkened niche nearby.

“Now there’s a place we _both_ can’t go,” quipped Remy almost on the verge of laughter as he strode toward his friend on the ground.

“How’d you know I’d be coming out the back door?” Bucky asked as he stood.

“Because dat’s how I came out the last time I was here,” Remy replied with a shrug. “Dat Maurice is a mean son of a bitch, ain’t he? Well, did he let you keep my winnings?”

“You mean _our_   winnings? I’m keeping half for being tossed into the alley...and yes, he did,” Bucky said brushing off his clothes. “I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh, you’re a big boy, Sergeant Barnes. Walk it off,” patronized Remy as he patted him on the back. He winked, but Bucky could not see it because of the Cajun’s dark glasses.

The two men strode down the alley toward the street where Crimson Voodoo was parked nearby.

“Remember my friend Celeste? She’s the one dat called during breakfast yesterday,” Remy said. “I promised I’d go see her today. You wanna come with?”

“Sure,” replied Bucky. “I like meeting your friends.”

The Cajun smiled and said, “Do you, James?” but it sounded more rhetorical than like a real question.

The two men climbed into Crimson Voodoo and Remy started the engine.

“You know, I like your town, Remy. I could get used to living here,” the assassin said.

“Well, let’s see how you feel after meeting Celeste.”

Not knowing what that meant, Bucky decided to wait and find out. He sat back in his seat and watched the locals get on with their daily lives as he and Remy drove by. He had no idea where they were going but if Remy was involved, it was sure to be an adventure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Un Affaire Inachevé” = “Unfinished Business”

**Author's Note:**

> © 2015 Planet Press
> 
> All characters herein are the property of Marvel Comics which retains the rights.


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